


when you are young (you know nothing)

by restless5oul



Series: exit stage left [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Dance, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, I suppose, M/M, Romance, a little fluff, some angst and drama along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26413462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless5oul/pseuds/restless5oul
Summary: “i haven’t told you what kind of dancing i do."“does it make a difference?”“sometimes.”“what kind of dancing then?” jack asked although honestly he wasn’t sure that he could name a single one.“ballet,” george said. he didn’t really know what his response was supposed to be. he still thought it was pretty cool and he thought he might like to see george in a pair of tights.
Relationships: Jack Aitken/George Russell
Series: exit stage left [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919842
Comments: 42
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DamsInDistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamsInDistress/gifts).



> i told u i would do another fic in this universe! this one is a little different because the POV character (jack) is not a dancer, so you get a sprinkling of coffee shop au in here too. i came up with this idea ages ago but haven't had the inspiration to write until recently - i have quite a lot of this done already. it was originally going to be a one shot but i'm at 10,000 words already so i thought splitting it up was more sensible.
> 
> ALSO, this is a gift to the lovely chesca who is the co-brain parent of all our babies including jack/george. this is also her birthday present even though i'm sure this first chapter is going up after her birthday is over (not here so it counts!!)
> 
> also obligatory taylor swift lyric title with pretentious brackets
> 
> i hope u all enjoy <3

“Hello?”

A few seconds passed.

“Uh, did you want to order something?”

That seemed to get the boy’s attention. His eyes flickered back into focus and he looked at Jack as if he’d just realised he was there. There was a moment when he looked confused, like he hadn’t noticed he was stood at the front of the queue in the coffee shop, but then he seemed to snap back to reality and an embarrassed blush covered his cheeks.

“Oh sorry. Uh, yeah I did. Could I just have an Americano with oat milk?” the boy said, avoiding looking at Jack as he fumbled around in his bag for spare change.

“Sure thing,” Jack smiled, half in amusement and half trying to make the boy feel better about his spaced out moment, “To take away?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Okay that’ll be £3.50. Can I have a name for the cup?” Jack asked.

“George,” the boy said, handing over the cash and still not meeting his eyes. Upon hearing his name, Jack remembered that the boy had been in the coffee shop before when he had been on shift and he had probably asked him this same question several times. As he rang up the order, he glanced at the boy, taking in his sweatpants and hold-all and probably figured he was on his way to the gym. He thought he could recall that he’d been dressed similarly every other time he’d come in.

He pushed the change across the counter towards him and smiled once more before picking up the paper coffee cup and carefully writing his name onto the side. He thought about the distracted expression that had been on his face and how completely lost in his subconscious the boy – _George_ – had been. So before he handed the cup to Christian who was stood beside the coffee machine he drew a quick smiley face under the name.

He carried on serving the line of customers but he kept an eye out for George’s face when he got handed the drink. When he took the cup from the end of the counter, Jack saw the ghost of a smile flit across his face.

***

Jack started to look out for George. Not intentionally or anything. Just when he happened to wander in Jack would think back to the distracted look on his face and realise that he actually remembered his name. He served hundreds of customers a week, usually the transient tourist crowd that populated Covent Garden, and he barely remembered the faces of his customers let alone their names. But he remembered George’s.

He would usually buy his coffee in the morning, somewhere between half eight and nine. Jack would have guessed it was his pre-shift coffee but he was never dressed like he was about to enter an office and he looked a bit too young for the corporate grind. Jack supposed he could have been a student like himself and maybe he just had a penchant for athletic wear.

He always ordered an Americano and never dairy milk. He didn’t take up Jack’s offer of a croissant or danish, though sometimes he looked tempted. He sometimes looked tired, occasionally stressed but there was something in the way he held himself that stopped him from looking at all pitiful or sad. He usually came alone but a few times he’d come in with another boy of a similar age, tall like George and with kind eyes. Once the two of them had been joined by a shorter, younger looking boy with curly hair who had talked at a million miles a minute. But mostly he was alone.

Beyond the usual pleasantries, Jack rarely struck up a conversation, even though sometimes he wanted to. He could tell his co-workers had caught onto his…interest in George and let him man the till whenever he came in. Callum had taken to calling him ‘Jack’s boyfriend’ while Christian smirked anytime George walked in the door.

One October afternoon, when Jack had been ten minutes away from clocking off. George walked in, his arrival marked by the ringing of the bell above the door. Jack was clearing a table by the window while Callum stood behind the counter. His colleague just gave him a pointed look out of the corner of his eye whilst he took George’s order. Jack tried very hard not to watch as George fidgeted with his phone as he waited. He tried even harder not to look when he sat down at a table a few feet away with his mug having clearly decided, for once, to sit in rather than take his coffee to go.

“Hi Mum,” Jack swore he wasn’t eavesdropping but there was barely anyone in the café and their boss didn’t let them play music too loud. Even if he’d been stood with Callum at the counter he probably would have been able to hear.

“…Yeah I had the meeting with Toto, it was…it wasn’t great to be honest. But it’ll be fine…he said they told him I’ve been going backwards, or at least, not improving at the rate they would expect me to by now. But I mean-…”

George cut himself off with a frustrated noise that sounded a little choked up to Jack’s ears. As he picked up the empty coffee cups from the window seat, he decided that George obviously wasn’t having a good day. And he also decided he was going to do something about it. Marching over to the counter, he put down the dirty cups and picked up a plate.

“What’re you doing?” Callum asked, looking up from his phone which he had not-so-subtly been hiding behind the till.

“Trying to cheer someone up,” Jack said as he used the tongs to grab the largest cookie he could see on the platter.

“Oh, for lover boy over there?” Callum said, a comment that Jack thought didn’t deserve a response.

George was, thankfully, off the phone by the time Jack arrived at his table.

“I, uh,” he began awkwardly, trying to get George’s attention first, “Couldn’t help but…you don’t look like you’re having a great day. And I thought you could use this. It’s on the house.”

Jack placed the cookie in front of a very confused and slightly startled looking boy.

“For…for me?” George asked, pointing at himself.

“Yeah,” Jack laughed.

“Oh. Thank you,” George said, pulling the plate closer and eying it a little suspiciously.

“I swear it’s not laced with anything,” Jack said quickly.

“No, no. It’s just I’m on a pretty strict diet so I don’t usually eat stuff like this.”

“You can treat yourself. I always say sugar is good for the soul.”

George laughed a little at that and broke off a piece of the cookie. He smiled at Jack as he tasted it, and Jack had to admit that it made him look cuter than he already did. He found it hard to believe that he needed to be on any kind of fitness regimen. Not that he’d been looking or anything, but he wasn’t exactly in bad shape. On instinct Jack took the seat opposite him and he could practically hear Callum rolling his eyes from all the way across the café.

“So what’s the crazy diet for?” Jack asked as George picked up the cookie and took a proper bite. Now he was finally talking to this boy, he couldn’t find it within himself to stop. George politely covered his mouth with his hand so he could answer.

“I, well…” he hesitated for a second, “I’m a dancer actually. Or I’m training to be one anyway.”

“Cool,” Jack said perking up at this new and unexpected piece of information. Now he thought about it, that would explain the graceful way he held himself and the bum he’d admired on a few occasions – again, not that he’d been staring.

“I haven’t told you what kind of dancing,” George said.

“Does it make a difference?”

“Sometimes.”

“What kind of dancing then?” Jack asked although honestly he wasn’t sure that he could name a single one.

“Ballet,” George said pulling a face that pre-empted any disparaging comments that he clearly expected. He didn’t really know what his response was supposed to be. He still thought it was pretty cool and he thought he might like to see George in a pair of tights.

“So…like Swan Lake and stuff?”

“Yeah,” George laughed, a genuine one this time, “Swan Lake and stuff.”

“Is that why’re you’re having a bad day?”

“Sort of. It’s complicated.”

Jack decided to take the plunge.

“Do you want to tell me about it, over dinner?”

A pink blush covered George’s cheeks as he looked at him with wide eyes.

“I…well I mean, I’ve got a lot on but maybe at the weekend or-or something,” he stammered.

“No pressure. I’ll give you my number,” Jack said as he pulled out his pad and pen, “Text me if you do want to.”

George nodded wordlessly as he pushed the scrap of paper across the table to him. He seemed to recover slightly as Jack stood up.

“I’ll let you know, I will.”

Jack just grinned as he walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> presented without much further comments...enjoy

Jack got his date the following weekend. Okay, so George had just called it ‘dinner’ but it was a date. _It was a date right?_ He hoped so. He was stood outside the tiny Italian restaurant and wishing he’d put on a thicker coat and wondering if he should have picked somewhere more impressive. His student budget didn’t stretch too far and he wasn’t about to ask his parents to finance a dinner date.

George appeared from the steps of the tube station after Jack had been waiting for about five minutes. He had his arms wrapped around the blue coat he was wearing, shielding himself from the cold wind. After a few seconds he spotted Jack and raised one of his hands to wave.

“Hi. Sorry I’m a bit late,” George said once he got close enough to speak. His cheeks were flushed from the fresh night air and his brown hair, which had obviously been meticulously styled at some point, had come a little undone on his journey over. Jack had been lamenting the November cold but he quite liked the effect it had on George.

“It’s fine. I was just here early, shall we go in?” Jack said, wondering if he should go in for a handshake – _no too formal_ – or a hug – _no too familiar_. He still wasn’t sure what this was after all. He had only invited George out for dinner after all, maybe he was straight. Although Jack was pretty sure he wouldn’t have said yes if he was. He thought he’d made it pretty clear if he was flirting when he’d asked.

In the end he just held the door open for George as they entered the little restaurant. They were shown to their table by the window and Jack was impressed at the effect that the lights and the greenery of the window display had. He wished he could take credit for it. The restaurant was full but there couldn’t have been more than fifteen people in there, including the waiting staff, so it wasn’t too loud or crowded. Jack wondered if he’d been expecting one of the swanky, fashionable restaurants that populated the West End, full of pretentiously named cocktails and loud music. That was less his style though.

“Do you drink?” Jack asked as he picked up the drinks menu.

“Um yeah on Saturdays,” George said before adding, “No training tomorrow.”

“Good thing it’s Saturday then,” Jack smiled, getting the attention of the waiter and ordering them a bottle of red wine.

There were a few moments of awkward silence as they both looked at the menu in front of him, occasionally glancing up at the other. Jack just wanted to look at him properly, when he wasn’t rushed off his feet at work and distracted. It was nice to see George wearing something other than workout clothes, he looked a little more settled and comfortable in the grey jumper and jeans. George suddenly glanced up from the menu and caught him looking. A small smile played on his lips but he didn’t say anything. The look was a contrast to the blushing boy who had stammered when Jack had asked him out.

“Last time I saw you, you weren’t having a very good day. I hope things are a bit better now,” Jack said, feeling like he needed to break the silence.

“Well,” George said, picking up the wine glass that had been placed in front of him, “A bit better yeah. I have a big audition next week, so a bit nervous about that.”

“Audition? What for?” Jack asked.

“Our winter concert at school. Okay I know it doesn’t sound like much but it’s one of our only big chances to make an impression outside of class, and it’s my final year so I need to get a good role and show I’m still worth taking a shot on for the company. Plus we have this new guy at school so there’s even more people to compete with but…” he trailed off with a sigh, “Sorry this is probably really boring to you.”

“No, no, not at all. It’s interesting. I don’t really know much, or anything, about it but still. I guess the company is like, where you go professional?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. The Royal. The Royal Ballet is its full name. I’ve been at their school since I was twelve so it’s my dream to dance with them.”

Jack guessed he had to be at least eighteen, if he was in his final year. And six years of training sounded like a lot of work and pressure.

“I’m guessing it’s a pretty good place to dance.”

“Yeah, the best in the country. One of the greatest in the world,” George said and there was an almost awed look in his eye.

“Surely if they’ve been training you since you were twelve then they’ll want you to join them?”

“If only it was that easy. It helps, being in their school. But they only take maybe three boys maximum each year, and they can choose to take someone from somewhere else if they like. So there’s no guarantee.”

“Could you dance somewhere else?”

“I could. But I don’t want to.”

He spoke with such a fierce determination that it caught Jack a little off guard. It spoke to a relentlessness that Jack just couldn’t relate to. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a dream to chase like that. Maybe he had misjudged George not to realise that he had that within him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t like it.

“Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to here me talk about dance for the whole of dinner,” George said, “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack was about to answer when a waiter came over to take their order. Once he was sent on his way with requests for spaghetti carbonara and a mozzarella and tomato salad, then Jack answered George’s question.

“I’m a student. I’m studying Maths at King’s. I’ve just started my second year,” Jack said with a non-committal shrug.

“Maths? You must be pretty smart,” George said looking impressed, although Jack didn’t think it was half as impressive as dancing. The coy smile on his face suggested that it was a faint attempt at flirting.

“I was good at it at school. But Mum and Dad didn’t pay £30,000 a year for me not to go to at least a top ten uni. Oxbridge would have been even better,” Jack couldn’t stop the hint of bitterness at its parents’ disappointment slipping into a voice. It didn’t upset him, just frustrated him that they couldn’t see that there were more important things than getting into his father’s alma mater. King’s was more than most people hoped for and it was in London which meant he could carry on living at home and what little he made from the café could be put to savings, or more often that not to his monthly disposable income.

“Do you like Maths then?” George asked, clearly wanting to steer the conversation away from whatever Jack had going on with his parents. Jack had noticed the not quite subtle rise of his eyebrows when he mentioned how much his schooling had cost.

“Yes and no. I find it easy, but I don’t want to be an engineer or whatever it is you do with Maths.”

“What do you want to be then?”

“I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

George smiled, maybe a little derisively but also liked he enjoyed that answer. Their conversation descended into a steady back and forth until Jack got a firmer picture in his head of who exactly George was. He was a dancer, but he was also the baby of his family and was treated accordingly – something that was said with a fond smile rather than annoyance. He grew up in the countryside but he liked the city better and he’d wanted to dance since he was eight years old. He claimed not to have time for much else beyond training and rehearsing but told Jack he liked bad action movies and Harry Potter. Oh, and he missed his dog.

“I wish I could have a dog,” Jack said wistfully, twirling his spaghetti around his fork.

“Does your landlord not let you?”

Jack snorted.

“Sort of. I live with my parents and Mum thinks it’ll just mess up the furniture and I’m not home enough to take care of it,” Jack shrugged, “She probably has a point.”

“You live in London then?”

“Yeah. With my parents and my brother.”

So Jack told him about being the eldest of two and being something of a family disappointment. He tried to wear it as a badge of honour but it was more of a monkey on his back. He only hoped that didn’t come across to George. He told him he had two left feet and no discernible sense of rhythm but if he drank enough then he could be dragged onto a dance floor. He told George about growing up in the city and that sometimes he thought about moving abroad when he was done with university; travelling around Asia or South America. He didn’t tell George sometimes he was worried he’d never leave. He told him that he also liked Harry Potter but that he thought books were better than films.

By the time they got handed the dessert menu he wondered if the idea of him George had prior to dinner had changed at all. If each small morsel of information, each anecdote had altered this idea until George was maybe close to knowing him.

“I’m good for dessert, thanks,” George said, waving off the waiter.

“Me too. I think we’ll just finish our wine and have the bill, please,” Jack agreed.

He picked up his wine glass and tilted it towards George’s, imitating a toast.

“I guess there is one more question I do need to ask you,” Jack said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to take a punt and say you’re not seeing anyone. Am I right?”

“You’re right but…” George paused to take a sip, looking more serious all of a sudden, “With everything going on right now – and this year is really important for me – I don’t have a lot of time to _see_ someone. Even if, even if I’d like to.”

“I understand.”

“Sorry.”

“No I get it, I really do,” Jack said, and he did. Even if it hadn’t been the answer he was hoping for. He wouldn’t have minded going for dinner with George again.

“I had a nice time tonight though,” George said and the smile he gave Jack was sweet.

It was almost as sweet as the look on his face when Jack walked him to the tube station and hesitated for a moment as they said goodbye. He was trying to see if he could see on George’s face if he wanted this, if this was okay. He tried leaning in just a fraction and saw a flicker of understanding in George’s eyes and he nodded slightly. Despite the shyness in his expression, George smiled as Jack pressed their lips together. If this was the only kiss they were going to get, he wanted to make it a good one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little short chapter :)))

“So what? It was one date and done?”

Jack was sat opposite his best friend Jake in a crowded pub on a cold Sunday evening. They were squished in the corner nursing their pints trying to avoid being bumped into by the rowdy middle aged men who kept crowding their table. He wasn’t sure how Jake had convinced him to leave the warmth of his house on a rainy day to come to their local pub to watch the football. He didn’t even like football and they couldn’t see the screen from where they were sat, but Jake seemed more interested in his love life anyway.

“I guess so. That’s basically what he said, but we have been texting and stuff,” Jack shrugged taking a sip of his lukewarm beer.

“You have?” Jake raised an eyebrow, “That’s promising.”

Jack nodded feeling like his phone was suddenly burning a hole in his pocket. Although he hadn’t been expecting anything from George after their date, he couldn’t resist but send him a text the next day to thank him for a nice time. And then George had said the same. And then Jack had sent him a selfie of him at work complaining about being tired and George had sent him a picture of him in his dance studio mirror. And it had gone on from there.

George had updated him on his audition and Jack complained about his essays. Jack could expect a few texts every day and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to them. He hadn’t asked him if he could see him again, it didn’t feel right after George had specifically told him he didn’t have time to see anyone. But the photos George would sometimes send him had him wondering if that was true. Or maybe George didn’t realise how good he looked when he sent Jack a photo of him shirtless tucked up in bed.

“I don’t think so though, it’s just texting.”

“How often?”

“Every day, but not like _constantly_.”

“Well good, that wouldn’t be your type anyway.”

Jack just snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Do you have a photo of him?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, I guess. I can show you his Instagram.”

Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened Instagram. Somehow it felt too invasive to show any of the photos George had sent him. At least these had been put up of his own volition. He turned his phone to show Jake but instead his friend just took it out of his hand and began scrolling for himself. Jack chewed on his fingernail as he searched Jake’s face for a reaction.

“He’s hot,” he finally said.

“Is that it?” Jack laughed as he took the phone back.

“Is there anything more to say?”

“Well most of us like more than just a nice face and a set of abs.”

“Is he more than that then?”

“Yeah, he’s…he’s nice. He’s a hard worker, dedicated, I like that.”

“But you haven’t seen him since that date?”

“Well he comes into work sometimes. That’s how I met him in the first place.”

The few times he’d come in Jack had tried to keep things professional but friendly. And maybe he sometimes rang up George’s order as something cheaper than he’d ordered but he didn’t push anything or cross any boundaries. He’d been coming into the café less often though which Jack had chalked up to the rehearsals that he constantly seemed to be stuck in these days, if his texts were anything to go by.

“I think you should ask him out again.”

“No,” Jack shook his head, “That’s on him. He told me he didn’t have time to date, I’d be an asshole if I put him in that position. If we get a second date it’ll be because he asks me.”

As if his ears were burning from wherever he was spending his Sunday night, Jack’s phoned buzzed with a text from none other than George himself. Snatching his phone off the table quickly before Jake could get a look at it, he unlocked it and opened the message.

_rehearsals killing me. can’t wait for this bloody concert to be over_

George had sent a photo with the message a photo of him in the mirror of the dance studio he seemed to frequent. He was sat at a distance with his phone covering his face but Jack could see long legs were stretched out in front of him and he was leaning back on his elbows nonchalantly. Someone was just out of frame, rehearsing while George rested most likely.

_aren’t you excited to be a snowflake? it’s the nutcracker right_

_when is it?_

_not a snowflake, sadly. but yes the nutcracker_

_next saturday_

_please tell me you’re doing something more interesting tonight_

_just having a drink with a friend_

Jack glanced up to see Jake watching him with a knowing smirk.

“Lover boy?” he asked.

“Yeah. Do you want to be in my picture?”

“What _kind_ of picture?” Jake raised an eyebrow.

“Not that kind, pervert,” Jack scoffed, “Just a photo of my drink.”

“Alright, whatever,” Jake nodded, holding up his drink and smiling for the camera. Jack sent the picture to George and then pocketed his phone.

“Your turn for a grilling now,” Jack said, draining his pint glass and putting it down on the table, “Shall we get another round?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little something to tide you over to the next chapter ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))

Saturday night rolled round and Jack had sent George a good luck text in the mid-afternoon but he’d gotten no reply. Not that he’d really expected one. George had seemed stressed all week, if someone could seem stressed over text. Jack hadn’t thought it possible before he started talking to George. He guessed whatever role he had in this concert must have been a pretty big deal, he could remember what George had said about the concert being a big deal.

At around nine o’clock Jack was lying in bed, covers pulled up to his chin and a laptop placed on the bed next to him. Some sitcom was playing in the background, the laughter track echoing through the dark room, fluorescent shadows thrown up the walls. It was a depressing way to spend a Saturday night and Jack almost wished he’d taken up his course mates offer of a house party somewhere in the East End. He usually would. But something had made him stay at home and now he only had The Big Bang Theory for company.

His phone lit up on his bedside table and Jack groggily reached over, almost knocking over his mug of tea in the process. He squinted at the screen and sat up when he saw who had sent the message.

_hey, are you free tonight?_

Jack reread the message a couple of times before a smile broke out across his face. He tried to push down some of the excitement that stirred inside his chest.

_absolutely – celebratory drinks for your concert?_

_something like that. where r you at the moment?_

_at home. i can meet you somewhere if you like?_

_i’ll go to oxford circus, i’ll meet you there_.

_okay sure – give me half an hour or so_

Jack was out of bed in an instant. He was suddenly glad he hadn’t got changed into pyjamas but he didn’t look exactly ready to go on a second date with a guy he really wanted to impress. He was running late by the time he was rushing towards the tube station but he’d spent too much time delaying over what to wear and doing his hair. He shot George a quick text to tell him he was on his way and another to Jake telling him that he’d gotten the second date.

He was ten minutes late by the time he made it to Oxford Circus and it was past ten o’clock. The tube station was filled with the usual mixed Saturday night crowd that central London drew. There were the loud tourists heading for the overpriced pubs and bars of Soho, the student crowd looking for a cheap two-for-one offer, and then he spotted George standing at the top of the steps that led Jack out of the underground. He wondered if he’d come here straight from his performance, though he doubted he danced in the blue jeans and dress shoes he was wearing. He’d thrown a grey woollen coat over his white shirt and a red scarf was tied around his neck.

“Hey, George,” Jack called as he approached, trying to get his attention. The December night was cold and he could see the puffs of breath coming from George’s mouth when he smiled and exhaled. Jack thought he looked tired, but that shouldn’t really be surprising if he’d just done a week of rehearsals followed by a show.

“Hi. Thanks for…for agreeing to meet me,” George said as they stepped to the side so they were out of the way of the stream of people exiting the tube station. Before he could overthink it like he had last time, Jack went in for a friendly hug by way of greeting. If it caught George off guard he didn’t show it.

“No problem. It’s freezing out here, why don’t we find somewhere to sit and you can tell me how the show went?” Jack suggested.

“Yeah, sure, do you know anywhere nice around here?” George asked, looking in slight disdain at the group of teenage girls in short skirts who were cackling wildly as they walked past the two of them.

“Yeah,” Jack laughed slightly, “I do.”

He led the two of them down Brook St, past the tailors and Michelin-starred restaurants, before taking them down a narrow Mews street. Above them strings of lights and garlands had been hung up between the tightly-packed buildings and the tables on the street had heated lamps overhead and blankets on the patrons’ laps. In a small courtyard, Jack took them inside a cocktail bar where the terrace had been done up to look like an Alpine ski chalet.

“Cute,” George said and he looked like he meant it. The fake snow and fairy lights made it all seem romantic, or so Jack hoped.

“Yeah. My mum took me and my brother here one Christmas, the food is good, but the drinks are better.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

They were shown to a table inside, where the interior had also been made to look like a winter wonderland. It was busy inside but with most of the clientele huddled around the bar, there table in the back offered them relative quiet.

“Are you here for food or just drinks? Our kitchen is closing in fifteen minutes so you’ll need to get your orders in quick,” the waiter informed then as they took their seats.

“You must be hungry,” Jack said to George, “Shall we get some food?”

He’d scarfed down an oven pizza a few hours ago, but he wasn’t opposed to a late night snack.

“No I’m alright thanks,” George said with a tight smile, “We’ll just have drinks.”

“Alright, I’ll let you look over the menu and someone will be over to take your order,” the waiter said as he placed the drinks menu on the table.

“You’re not hungry?” Jack asked as he picked up the menu.

“No, not really,” George said and Jack detected a hint of a sigh in his voice. He frowned and looked to see that George really _was_ tired and he didn’t think it was the post-show adrenaline fading from his veins.

“How did it go? The concert?” Jack asked gently, wondering if that was the source of the strange mood George seemed to be in.

“It was…average,” George said, taking the menu that Jack was offering to him. The comment seemed an unusual assessment of a ballet performance and the weary way he spoke didn’t remind Jack of the way he’d talked about dance on their first date.

“What was it? A costume malfunction? Did the set fall to pieces? No wait, did the lead refuse to go on?” Jack guessed, trying to inject some levity into the situation. It got a smile out of George at least.

“No, not quite,” George said with a small chuckle, “What’re you having?”

“A Negroni,” Jack said, watching as George’s eyes flitted across the paper menu.

“Have we decided then gentlemen?” a waiter seemed to suddenly materialise at their side and Jack placed his order.

“I’ll have the Old Fashioned,” George said handing the menu to the waiter, “And a shot of vodka.”

He gave Jack a somewhat challenging look, one eyebrow quirked expectantly.

“I’ll have one too then,” Jack said with a wicked grin.

“Well I suppose it is a Saturday after all,” Jack said, remembering what George had told him about his drinking habits on their first date.

“Yep. And I think I need it,” George said with a wry smile.

“Okay so, tell me what really happened then. What made the concert so painfully average?” Jack was joking but George’s expression was one of agreement.

“Well the concert wasn’t average, it was good actually, the leads were amazing. I just had a little part in a pas de deux in Act Two so I doubt anyone noticed I was in it apart from my parents,” George said a little bitterly.

“Well I’m sure you were amazing.”

“Maybe,” George shrugged, “You’ve never seen me dance before, you dunno maybe I’m awful.”

“I’d like to see you dance.”

George blushed prettily and was saved from having to answer by their drinks arriving. If Jack had to imagine George’s assessment of his dancing before he asked, he would have assumed he would be quietly confident, not self deprecating. Whether his dancing really had been good or not, clearly it wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

“Let’s forget about dancing then, we can talk about anything else,” Jack said picking up the shot glass filled with clear liquid, “Cheers.”

George clinked their glasses together and the two of them downed their shots in one. Jack worked to keep his face impassive as he swallowed down the burning liquid, years of practice easing it down. George didn’t fare so well. He started coughing and his eyes watered as he reached for the glass of tap water on the table.

“Not a fan of vodka?” Jack laughed.

“It’s fine, I don’t usually do shots to be honest,” George said after he drained his glass of water.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“I’m sure.”

Jack launched into some long monologue about some group project he was working on, trying to explain the unnecessarily complicated mathematical theory for George and moaning about the people he’d been partnered up with. It was mostly just a distraction tactic, to get George’s mind away from the concert. And he seemed to like to listen when Jack spoke about his life.

“I wish I understood even half of what you were just talking about,” George said, chuckling into his almost empty glass.

“I would say it’s not as complicated as it sounds, but it really is,” Jack said as he got the waiter’s attention and mimed a request for another round.

“I can barely do simple addition I swear.”

“Do they teach Maths at ballet school?” Jack asked.

“Oh yeah. We do actually do like GCSEs and A Levels and stuff. Well sort of, you have to pass Maths and English when you’re 16 but then most of us just take dance and performance at A Level and maybe another class. They’re not heavy on the academics, unsurprisingly.”

“I bet that kind of limits your back-up plans.”

“Now you sound like my mum,” George laughed, “But yeah it does.”

“What would you do? If you didn’t dance.”

“I dunno, I’ve never really…I haven’t really done anything else and I can’t do much else. If I could go back and I wasn’t allowed to dance then maybe I’d become an astronaut or something.”

“An astronaut?”

“Yeah, it’s the only thing I can think of that’s cooler than a dancer.”

Jack laughed again as their second round of drinks were placed in front of them and he noticed a pleased look cross George’s face that he’d managed to make him laugh. That started a conversation on the various merits and pitfalls of their own educations. Jack was fairly sure that his public school experience had imbued him with a foolish arrogance and an unshakeable superiority complex. Whilst George thought studying almost exclusively ballet since he was twelve had left him socially inept.

“No seriously, all my friends are dancers too. We barely know how to go five minutes without mentioning ballet.”

“Well you seem pretty adept at socialising to me.”

“It took some convincing though. My best friend basically had to strong arm me into coming on that first date with you. He thought it’d be good for me to meet someone outside the Royal’s bubble.”

“And was he right?”

“I think so,” George said with a small smile. And Jack tried to ignore the annoying voice in his head that told him that George didn’t have time to date, he didn’t want to see anyone.

Three drinks and three shots later and Jack was feeling the tipsy giddiness creeping up on him. George’s cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, his dancer’s posture forgotten as he leaned forward and Jack didn’t want to leave, even if they were the last stragglers inside and the staff were starting to clear up. He’d been waiting so long for this second date and he was pretty sure he could talk to George until the sun rose again. It helped that the alcohol seemed to have sent his inhibitions out the door and George was doing more flirting than his sober self would have probably approved of. But Jack liked seeing him loosening up and letting go.

“Sorry lads, but we’re about to shut up shop,” a waiter came over and placed their bill on the table with a slightly irritated look in his eye. Jack doubted the staff wanted to wait around watching their date instead of getting home to their own beds.

“Alright, I’ve got this one,” he said, placing his credit card down on the table.

“No I can’t let you pay,” George shook his head, rifling around in his pockets.

“I insist,” Jack said firmly as the waiter picked up his card to process the payment.

George didn’t argue as they pulled on their coats and stumbled out into the cold December night. The courtyard and mews were almost completely deserted now, save for a waiter stacking chairs and tables and a man stood chain smoking on the corner. George turned to Jack and he had a slightly anguished look on his face.

“I don’t want to go home,” he blurted out, like he hadn’t meant to.

“Then don’t,” Jack smiled, reaching out to entangle his fingers with George’s. He looked closely and saw that despite the drinks George’s eyes were perfectly clear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: smut ahead

_“I don’t want to go home,” he blurted out, like he hadn’t meant to._

_“Then don’t,” Jack smiled, reaching out to entangle his fingers with George’s. He looked closely and saw that despite the drinks George’s eyes were perfectly clear._

“Okay…” George hesitated, seeming to not want to make any assumptions. Obviously he hadn’t had enough alcohol to make him completely fearless.

Jack rolled his eyes rather fondly and stretched up a little onto his tiptoes so his mouth reached George’s. The kiss was slower than their first, more deliberate and drawn out, and Jack grinned when he felt George’s hand lightly gripping the back of his neck, keeping him in place.

“Come back to mine,” Jack whispered against his mouth keeping his eyes closed.

“Okay,” George murmured, more sure of himself this time.

Jack kissed him again just to be sure that both of them felt the spark that was growing in his chest. And George’s response was equally enthusiastic.

“Come on,” Jack said, holding onto his hand properly as he led them onto the main street that was still teeming with the city’s nightlife. Once they got to the tube station and they were both pulling their Oyster cards from their wallets, Jack turned to George, just to make sure.

“You’re sure this is okay? We can go to yours if you want?”

“No, no, this is better. I share a room in the boarding house,” George giggled at whatever image that had conjured up in his mind.

“Okay then yes, my place is much better,” Jack laughed.

“You live with your parents right?” George asked as they stepped onto the escalator. Jack had to resist the urge to lean in and kiss him again now the steps had them at eye level.

“Yeah but don’t worry, the house is big enough and our rooms are far apart.”

“Okay good.”

Jack kept seeing George glance at him from the corner of his eye as they sat side by side in the tube carriage, their knees pressed against each other.

“How many stops?” George asked.

“Just four.”

The rattling and screeching of the old train along the tracks made it too loud to hold a normal conversation and Jack was sure whatever they wanted to say to each other wasn’t appropriate to say within earshot of the elderly lady sat on George’s left. Swaying a little under the effects of the rocking train and the vodka they stumbled off the train at Bayswater.

“It’s just a ten-minute walk from here,” Jack said as they exited the station and George took his hand once more. He didn’t know what had changed within the last month or so that had George willing to not only see Jack again but go home with him, but he didn’t care what it was if it gave him this.

“This is it,” Jack as he led George up the tiled steps towards the white Edwardian townhouse.

“Woah, _this_ is your house?” George asked, gazing up at the grand pillars and wrought iron fencing.

“Yeah,” Jack laughed, giving him a little tug to pull him up the stairs. He could see George gazing at the glossy black door and large brass knocker as he took out his keys to unlock it.

“This is fancy,” George said, sounding a little awed and disbelieving.

“I did tell you how much my school cost,” Jack said, lowering his voice as he pushed the front door open.

“Yeah but I didn’t think…” his sentence tailed off into another laugh.

“Sshhh,” Jack said, pressing a finger to his lips, “Parents are…”

He pointed upwards at the ceiling.

“Oh, okay,” George said, nodding solemnly.

Jack took him up two flights of stairs to the top floor where there was only his attic bedroom and a bathroom across the hallway. He suddenly felt a sting of nerves he usually didn’t when he brought people home, but he found himself caring what George would make of him when he took him onto home turf. Here, in the room he’d lived in since he was five years old, the walls and shelves were covered in evidence of who he was and who he had been. Usually it would be easy to pull whichever guy it was to the bed and not care what they made of him beyond what he could do on the mattress. But he wanted George to like him, he wanted him to know that bringing him into his home wasn’t just about sex, it was about letting him know Jack.

Jack closed his bedroom door behind him and leant against the wood, looking at George as he stepped into the room, gazing around at the dark surroundings. He could only just see his silhouette lit only by the low lamp in the corner of the room that Jack had accidentally left on. But Jack thought he fit in well, like he was meant to be there. George turned and approached Jack, crowding him against the door, his hands on either side of his face, then he was kissing him fiercely. Jack’s hands were on the scarf around George’s neck, frantically pulling it off and then unbuttoning his thick, heavy coat.

“Help me out a little here,” Jack mumbled as he struggled to push the coat down George’s arms. George shrugged the coat and let it fall to the ground at his feet and stepped back so he could kick off his shoes and socks. Not wanting to be left behind Jack started pulling off his jacket and jumper and shoes until he felt George tugging him by the hand towards the bed.

It was only when George was lying on top of him, his shirt undone and jeans thrown to the side of the room that Jack was pulled from the frantic trance of getting naked as fast as was humanly possible. He was breathing hard when he pulled away from George and even though he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing his swollen lips, he forced himself to slow down for a second. He was about to ask George if he was okay, if he was sure he wanted to carry on, but his eyes travelled south and he got momentarily distracted.

“Damn,” Jack breathed, his fingers trailing George’s abs, then he shook his head, snapping himself out of it. He heard George laugh quietly leaning down to capture Jack’s lips again which meant Jack had to find the strength to pull away _again_.

“Are you still good? We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to?” Jack asked, tilting George’s chin towards him so he could look him in the eye.

“Do I look like I don’t want to do this?” George asked, half joking, half serious. But there was a slight look of hesitation in his eyes. Jack sat up, forcing George to sit back his chest and face pink with arousal. He didn’t know if George was the type to sleep around but judging by everything else he’d said, he wasn’t, and if he hadn’t been sure about dating Jack before today, he didn’t want him to do something he’d regret.

“No I just-…I have to ask.”

“Well I want this, I want _you_ ,” George said insistently, crowding Jack, his dark green eyes threatening to pull him in again. There was something very determined in his voice and something undeniable attractive about the way he spoke too.

“Okay, how do you want to do this?” Jack asked, kneeling so he could undo his trousers and throw them onto the floor with the rest of their clothes.

“I-…Can I fuck you?” George asked, biting his lips as his eyes flickered downwards.

“Oh absolutely,” Jack said, stretching so he could reach into his bedside drawer and pull out lube and a condom. His felt his dick stir at the thought of George pinning him down to the bed and fucking him into the mattress. He handed the condom to George and then held up the lube.

“Should I? Or do you want to do the honours?” he asked.

“Come here,” George smiled, that determined look returning to his face.

Jack found himself manhandled onto George’s lap, his arms slung around his shoulders as George worked one, two and then three fingers inside him. From where he was pressed up against him he could feel the muscles in George’s bicep twitching as he fucked them in and out of Jack’s now stretched hole.

“Oh fuck,” Jack mumbled as George’s fingers once again brushed his prostrate. He pressed his face into George’s broad shoulder, his teeth lightly digging into the soft skin. George’s hard cock was sliding against Jack’s thigh but George hadn’t so much as touched himself yet; the hand that wasn’t opening Jack up was digging into his arse cheek, holding him up.

“Are you almost good?” George whispered into his ear, wet lips pressed to his skin. Jack nodded, feeling his thighs start to shake from the effort of holding himself up. He tried not to whine pathetically as George withdrew his hand and rather gently lay him down on his back.

He lay there catching his breath as George picked up the condom that had been tossed onto the sheets next to them. There was a deep seated, aching need that was starting to pool in the pit of Jack’s stomach. And the sensation only deepened when George rolled on the condom and stroked his dick a couple of times, probably to relieve a similar feeling. The sight of him knelt above Jack was his hand around his dick was probably enough to sustain Jack for several months.

“You okay?” George asked as he wrapped his hands underneath Jack’s thighs.

“God yes,” Jack said, “Please just fuck me already.”

Needing no more encouragement, George slowly pushed inside Jack, the initial pain quickly overcome by the all-consuming pleasure at being fucked. Jack reached over his head with one arm looking for something to grab onto and eventually he found himself holding onto the headboard using it to anchor himself.

“You feel so good,” George muttered, sounding slightly amazed. And those four little words made Jack moan in desperation.

“Please George.”

It took George a few tries to work them up into a good rhythm but once he did Jack felt like he was in heaven. He felt George’s hand wrap around the one he had gripped to the headboard as he started to thrust deeper and harder. Jack wrapped his legs around George’s hips, trying to silently encourage him and let him know he was very much into it. He didn’t think he had the words to communicate anymore, his mouth was dry and the only sounds coming out were breathless moans and half suppressed groans. George seemed to understand, leaning down over him and pressing their mouths together in a rushed, sloppy kiss. There were beads of sweat clinging to his forehead and he looked thoroughly dishevelled. But Jack thought he’d never looked better.

“Fuck Jack, I can’t hold on,” he groaned as his movements got increasingly jerky.

“Okay, okay,” Jack said, the only words he was able to get out and he let go of the headboard so he could reach down and begin to jerk himself off, frantically chasing his release so George didn’t have to finish before him. It took significantly less time than he anticipated as the tight knot of pleasure in his stomach unravelled and he came all over his hand, his back arching towards George as he cried out.

“Fuck that was-…fuck,” George muttered, his eyes roaming Jack’s body, seemingly unsure of where he should look – his face, his dick or his stomach which was now covered in cum.

“Go on, keep going,” Jack urged him on even though each thrust was sending a sharp overload to his senses. George grabbed the back of his head as he quickened and with a low guttural groan, finished inside Jack.

He ended up slumped over Jack, his face pressed into the sheets beside his head. His softening dick slipped out of Jack but he didn’t seem able to summon the strength to move yet.

“Pass me the tissues on the bedside table, there’s a bin down there too,” Jack said quietly once they’d both caught their breath. With a tired groan, George pushed himself off the mattress and duly obliged.

“I feel very sweaty and gross,” George as he flopped onto his back, condom discarded and the worst of the mess cleaned up.

“We can shower in the morning,” Jack said with a yawn, pressing a kiss to George’s jaw before he nestled his face into the crook between his shoulder and neck.

“Yeah, in the morning,” George agreed, closing his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh

The morning came sooner than Jack would have liked. He was woken up by streams of winter sunlight cutting through the gaps in the curtain and George shifting next to him. He should have known he was a morning person. Jack could have happily spent several more hours in bed sleeping off his hangover-induced headache. Cautiously he opened one eye and looked at the clock on his wall which told him it was just past eight in the morning. He wasn’t sure what time they’d gotten back but he was sure they couldn’t have had more than seven hours of sleep. If he listened closely he could hear the shower running on the floor below, probably his mum coming back from her freakish habit of Sunday morning runs.

“Morning,” Jack mumbled, rolling over so he could press his face against George’s chest. He frowned as George made to get out of bed and Jack found himself planted face first into the mattress. His mouth felt dry and he knew he really ought to get himself a glass of water but it was warm and inviting beneath the duvet.

“Is it the bathroom across the hall?” George asked quietly, his own voice sounding fairly croaky.

“Yeah. Help yourself to a shower,” Jack said, his voice muffled by the bed.

He listened as George got up, padding across the room to the door and presumably taking one of the towels off the back of it. Or he decided to walk naked across the landing. That would have been a sight. Jack didn’t know if he’d be embarrassed or proud if his brother or parents had seen him. It might lead to an awkward conversation or two, but he also hoped there might be a little respect for him in finding someone so hot.

Jack must have drifted back to sleep in the time it took George to shower because it seemed like in no time at all his bedroom door was opening again. He turned onto his side so he could watch George – dressed in his shirt and jeans from last night – looking for his shoes and coat.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, watching as George gave up on hunting for his socks.

“Uh yeah,” George said, sitting down on the bed so he had his back to Jack. There was nothing inherently wrong in his actions but something was up, that much Jack could tell. He sat up, ignoring the way his head felt fuzzy as he moved.

“Last night was fun,” Jack said a little slow and a little sly, trying to see what reaction that got out of George. He turned his head but only so Jack could see him in profile.

“Yeah it was,” George said but he wasn’t smiling, “But it doesn’t change things Jack, I-I don’t have time to see anyone. They…I really need to focus on my dancing.”

Jack frowned. He had always maintained that whether him and George started seeing each other was entirely up to him. But after the constant texting and now last night, he was starting to think that his excuses were a little hollow.

“If you don’t want to date me you can just say so,” Jack said, sounding more than a little bitter. It could have been his hangover making him more irritable than usual but he was beginning to feel cheated.

“It’s not that,” George said and at least he had the decency to turn and face Jack properly.

“Then what? You just wanted a good fuck?” he got some satisfaction in seeing George flinch.

“No! No. Things just aren’t going well for me right now and I can’t be distracted,” he explained.

“Oh so I’m a distraction?”

“Not like that I-“

“Don’t bother texting me if I’m so bloody distracting then.”

George wisely took that as his cue to leave. He hurriedly pushed his feet into his shoes and didn’t even bother putting on his scarf and coat, just held them in his arms as he hurried to the door. He didn’t say anything else to Jack, but he did spare him a single look over his shoulder that was somehow cold and conflicted all at once. Jack wasn’t in the mood to dwell on it. It might have been easier to take if the sex had been bad. All he wanted to do was bury his head under his pillow and ignore the world.

A few minutes later he heard thundering footsteps coming up the stairs and for a foolish moment thought George had come back bearing heartfelt apologies. Instead his bedroom door burst open and his younger brother Max barged in.

“Who was that guy I saw leaving this morning?” he smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh fuck off,” Jack scowled aiming a pillow at Max and missing completely.

“Mum saw too. She tried to get him to stop for breakfast but he said he had somewhere to be.”

“For god’s sake,” Jack groaned. The last thing he needed was a motherly inquisition, what he really needed was ibuprofen and orange juice.

He peaked his head out from under the pillow.

“What’s she making?”

“Bacon and eggs.”

“Do you think you could bring me some up?”

Max hesitated, clearly weighing up if this was worth his time and energy. But Jack must have looked pretty pathetic because he agreed. As Jack drowned his sorrows in bitter coffee and buttery toast he vowed to never even think about George Russell again. He was aware that was easier said than done. He’d had enough experience with shitty guys in this lifetime so he wasn’t sure why this one had to hurt so bad. He’d been tossed aside after more one night stands than he could count. As long as he had a good time, Jack didn’t mind because he usually knew what type of people they were. He knew what he was getting into. In fact, Jack would have considered himself adept at reading people.

And he didn’t think George was a bad guy. He was aware he didn’t know him very well. But he just didn’t strike him as an asshole. Maybe he was still confused, he could have been recently out the closet and maybe all this was too new and overwhelming for him. But the whole gay part of it didn’t seem to be the problem. The problem seemed to be George telling himself he couldn’t have this, like it went against some strict code he’d written for himself. Maybe at ballet school they told you not to date, Jack didn’t know. Or maybe he just put dancing above forming healthy human interactions.

Realising he’d spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about George rather than doing the opposite as he had intended, Jack viciously stabbed at a piece of bacon and glanced at his phone. He knew there wasn’t going to be any texts waiting for him. And he certainly wasn’t going to send one.


	7. Chapter 7

Jack stayed true to his word. He didn’t text or call George. But he might have spent an excessive amount of time looking through his Instagram even though George rarely posted or updated his stories. The most he got was him tagged in a few pictures posted by his friend Lando that showed the behind the scenes of their winter concert. And then that led Jack down the rabbit hole of looking at his friends’ accounts and really it just all had to stop.

He’d even googled George once or twice, partly out of curiosity. He was surprised at the amount of results his name returned. There were videos of him on Youtube dancing at something called the Prix de Lausanne and a few articles about him on specialist news sites. Even fifteen minutes of scrolling told Jack that he was something of a big deal. Or at least people hoped he would be. A lot of the articles and forums and comments referenced him as the next great hopeful of British ballet. Although many of the posts were years old and showed a chubby cheeked George who hadn’t shot up to over six foot or grown into his features yet. Jack wondered if maybe he was starting to understand exactly what George meant when he talked about pressure.

He didn’t want to feel sorry for him. And he didn’t want to spend time inventing excuses for George when he should have been calling him to explain himself. He’d only come into the café once in the few weeks that had passed since they slept together, but Jack had let Callum take the order and refused to even look in his direction. He reacted so aggressively when Christian asked him if something had happened that his colleagues seemed to have reached a silent agreement not to mention George’s existence.

Christmas and the New Year had proved a welcome distraction but when the January blues kicked in Jack found himself thinking about George even more than ever. He didn’t know what it was that had him so hung up on this one guy. He wouldn’t have even said he had strong feelings for him – how could he? He’d met up with him twice and texted him a few times. But maybe Jack didn’t know himself as well as he imagined he did. Or maybe George was just different.

“Jack?...Jack!” a loud voice by his ear caught Jack’s attention, making him jump. He scowled and turned to see Christian’s face inches from his own.

“What?” he asked irritably.

“Well firstly, you’ve been rinsing that glass for two minutes. And secondly, _you know who_ just walked in.”

Jack couldn’t help himself but glance over his shoulder and sure enough George was stood by the door looking around until his eyes met Jack’s. Jack half expected him to blush and look away like a coward but instead he made a beeline straight for the counter.

“Should I leave this to you?” Christian muttered.

“I think so,” Jack said, taking his time with placing the glass on the draining board and drying his hands with a tea towel. He didn’t dare look in George’s eyes until he couldn’t avoid it any longer and he was stood directly in front of him. He plastered a large, obviously fake smile onto his face before he plucked up the nerve to speak.

“What can I get for you?” he asked as though they were total strangers.

George faltered slightly but he gathered himself impressively quickly.

“Five minutes.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to frown and look confused.

“What?”

“I just want five minutes. With you, to explain myself,” George bit his lip as Jack stared at him, “Please?”

Jack glanced at Christian who was watching them avidly from the coffee machine. His co-worker coughed and pretended he was really preoccupied with emptying the milk jugs. Jack looked back at George and he looked so god damn earnest that he found himself nodding.

“Just five minutes,” Jack said, “Christian cover me for a little bit.”

Christian nodded and gave him a not-so-subtle thumbs up as he walked past. Jack wasn’t sure if it was encouragement to tell George to fuck off or give him a second chance. He wasn’t sure Christian actually understood the situation, given Jack had never explained it to him, but he appreciated the support.

“We can talk outside,” Jack said, nodding in the direction of the front door. They could have talked inside but Jack didn’t really want his nosey co-workers butting in and maybe he wanted to punish George a little by making him stand outside in the January cold. Jack didn’t factor in that he too would have to stand outside in the cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he’d put something on top of the polo shirt he wore to work.

“Do you want my jacket?” George asked, pointing at the denim jacket he had on.

“No,” Jack snapped irritably. George looked suitably cowed and paused a few seconds before he started talking again, like he was scared Jack was going to shout at him.

“I wanted to explain myself, I’m not trying to make excuses, I acted like a dick but I didn’t mean to hurt you,” George said, looking down at his hands, “It just all came out wrong.”

“Okay…” Jack said impatiently.

“I didn’t mean you were a distraction. Well I did, but not in a bad way. Just that you make me forget about dancing and I’m not used to that. And it’s been going shit recently so I thought I had to just work harder and that’d fix everything. I know that’s not how it really works but I just…I just took it out on you. I’ve never dated anyone not from school before and I don’t really know anyone who doesn’t dance, and I just thought I had to do that because other dancers are the only people who are going to understand what it’s like. But the problem isn’t you, or anyone else, it’s me.”

Jack felt a little unconvinced by George’s hasty explanation. It felt to him like he hadn’t really figured out what he was feeling himself yet. So he couldn’t even begin to explain it to Jack. One look at his face told Jack that he had a lot going on in that head of his. He didn’t enjoy the twinge of pity that he felt in the pit of his stomach. George clearly took his silence to mean that he needed to say something else.

“I’m sorry Jack. I’m not asking you to give me a second chance, I mean I’d like that but you don’t have to. I’m not usually an asshole. When I told my friend Alex he honestly looked like he could have slapped me, I never-…”

George cut himself off like it suddenly occurred to him that he was rambling. Jack didn’t know him _that_ well but he could tell he was nervous. Even on their first date George had been quietly self-assured and confident. The boy stood in front of him looked like he was about to throw up. Jack wondered how often he put himself and his feelings on the line like this, or maybe it was just different for Jack. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.

“I think…I don’t think you’re a bad guy George,” Jack said slowly, “I think you’re right, you obviously have a lot going on…”

Jack paused, not wanting to be the guy who gave in easily. Usually he liked to pride himself on standing his ground and respecting himself. He didn’t want to be a pushover when it came to his relationships and hookups. Maybe he took that to a fault. But there was something about George that made him want to ignore all the rules he had. He wanted to help him, even if he wasn’t asking for his help. And he felt like they’re could be something good between them if they just let it happen.

“And I don’t think you’re dealing with it well honestly. But if you need someone outside of your ballet bubble to talk about it with you know where to find me,” Jack said pointing at the shop behind him where he knew Christian was watching them through the window.

George didn’t say anything about Jack’s assessment of his current state so he took that to mean he was correct.

“I can see you again?” George asked.

Jack nodded.

“I think right now, maybe we should just stick to being friends. But yeah, I still want to see you. Maybe I’m stupid but I do.”

“Friends…yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” George said thoroughly unconvincingly. Jack didn’t want to be just friends either but he needed the boundary to protect himself.

“I should get back to work,” Jack said.

“Can I text you later?” George asked quickly before Jack turned away.

“Yes, you can text me,” Jack half-laughed as he genuinely smiled at George.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait for this chapter - it's a longer one so i hope this makes up for the wait. 
> 
> uni and work has been crazy lately and my laptop broke but the icloud saved this fic, thank god. 
> 
> enjoy :)

_are you free today?_

Jack only had to wait until the next day before his phone lit up with a text from George. He _almost_ smiled when he saw his name on the screen. Clearly George wasn’t going to be playing it casual. He debated not replying straight away but they had agreed to keep things strictly friendly and Jack didn’t like playing games. Plus he truly was free that night.

_yeah, looking to make plans?_

He tucked his phone down the side of the till, out of sight of customers but so he could see it out of the corner of his eye. He still had mixed feelings about the whole situation and was trying very hard not to blindly give George a second chance. But it was hard when Jack liked him so god damn much and he had a way of making him soft.

_supposed to be putting in extra hours in the studio tonight but thought i would get a coffee first. do u want to join me?_

It took Jack all of three seconds to come up with his answer.

_sure. i’m actually working today but i get off in an hour, i could meet you at your school?_

Jack remembered from one of their many text conversations that George took his classes just next door to the Royal Opera House on the other side of Covent Garden.

_yeah i finish at the same time_

An unfamiliar bubble of nerves started to grow in the pit of Jack’s stomach as his mind inevitably wandered to catching up with George. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act around him anymore according to these boundaries he’d put in place. Flirting was off the table and if anything, Jack just wanted to get to know George a bit better before he made any more rash decisions.

By the time he clocked off at five he’d resolved to play things as cool as possible. Usually he was good at keeping feelings and sentiment out of things, but he thought it would take a bit more concentration this time. After a short walk he found himself stood by the glass front doors of the ballet school, watching the girls with their hair scraped back into tight buns and the boys carrying heavy looking gym bags leave the school. They all seemed to pay him no attention as they headed off in different directions moving around in their own worlds of eight count motifs, tutus and ballet shoes. Maybe George wasn’t exaggerating when he spoke about a bubble where everyone lived and breathed dancing.

George emerged when only a few stragglers remained looking out of breath and a little flustered in his matching tracksuit top and pants, embroidered with the school’s logo. Jack tried to ignore the tingling sensation in his stomach when George smiled at him.

“Sorry I’m a bit late, I got held behind after class,” George said with an annoyed scowl.

“Making trouble?” Jack teased only to mentally curse himself a few seconds later when he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be flirting.

“Not really,” George grimaced, “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

“Nah, I had fun people watching.”

George just smiled and there were a few awkward moments as they both stood there by the side of the road. Jack could tell they were both searching for the right words to say. It didn’t feel right to address what they’d talked about the day before. But it also felt wrong to ignore it completely. In the end Jack said;

“So coffee?”

“Yeah, I was going to go to the terrace at the Opera House. The restaurant is actually nice I promise, I’m not just going because it’s next door,” George said, pointing down the street where the grand façade of the Victorian theatre protruded out into the street. He quickly added, “The terrace is heated.”

“It’s fine. I’m not fussy,” Jack laughed and led George lead the way.

“Have you ever been in here?” George asked as they bypassed the old entrance and instead entered through the tall glass doors of the modern, black granite extension. The foyer was mostly empty, save for the staff behind the cloakroom desk and the doormen. The room was warm and open and their footsteps echoed on the glossy hardwood floor as George took them to a winding staircase in the corner.

“Maybe once when I was a kid. My mum might have taken me,” Jack said, glancing around, “We’re not really a big theatre family.”

“I should give you a tour sometime. It’s amazing,” George said dreamily. They took an escalator up another floor and as they ascended Jack found himself looking down on what seemed to be a gigantic greenhouse. There was a bar in the middle filled with buckets of ice and bottles of champagne and tables being set up around the room. The team of smartly dressed waiters swept across the room like a well-oiled regiment setting out millimetre perfect arrangements of glasses and cutlery.

“A restaurant?” Jack asked, looking at George.

“Yeah, we use it for events sometimes too. It used be a flower market.”

At the top of the escalator, a waiter lead them outside onto a terrace overlooking the bustling Covent Garden. The cute wooden tables were hidden from one another by a frankly obscene amount of foliage and the promised outdoor heaters. George ordered them two coffees as they sat down.

“You have to go back to the studio later then?” Jack asked, remembering George’s text.

“Yeah. I just need…it’s just for conditioning and stuff,” George shrugged.

“Don’t you want to get something to eat then, do they do food here?” Jack asked, looking around as he realised that they hadn’t been given menus.

“No, I’ll have something later. I shouldn’t eat before dancing.”

Jack had to force himself not to point out that George spent almost every waking hour dancing so surely that wasn’t strictly a rule he followed.

“So, how was your Christmas?” Jack asked, realising that it had been mid-December when they’d last seen each other properly. He tried to ignore the mixed emotions that memory stirred in him.

“It was really nice,” George smiled, instantly relaxing as his mind drifted to family and home, “My niece and nephew are finally old enough that they get really excited about Christmas now. It makes it all fun again. And it was nice to spend some time at home.”

“Get anything exciting?” Jack asked.

“No, I mean, we don’t really do presents. If I really need something for dance or shoes or something, I’ll get that. But my parents pay so much for my school and stuff, I wouldn’t ask them for anything more.”

“The school costs money?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” George laughed, “I mean, we get scholarships and stuff. But I haven’t got as much as I used to when I was in the junior school and uniforms and everything else we need costs a lot. They don’t train England’s next generation of ballet dancers for free.”

For some reason Jack had blindly assumed that if you were good enough to get into the best ballet school in the world then surely they wouldn’t want to stop someone from attending by sticking a huge price tag to it. But then again, hundreds of ballet shoes weren’t going to pay for themselves.

For some reason he felt embarrassed when he thought of the untouched watch sat on his bedside table at home. The flashy gift had been given to him on Christmas day morning by his parents and he hadn’t even tried it on yet. And here George was, so grateful to his parents for their sacrifices, that he wouldn’t take anything else from them. Jack didn’t think he was out of touch and he didn’t think he took advantage of his parents. But it was hard not to get caught up in his own world sometimes.

“How was your Christmas?” George asked as two cappuccinos appeared in front of them.

“Good. We spent Christmas at my grandparents in the country. And then my mum’s parents came over from Korea until New Year. It’s the first time I’ve seen them not over Facetime in a year or so.”

“Have you ever visited them in Korea?”

“Yeah, a few times. It’s amazing over there. I definitely want to go back, maybe go to Japan too.”

“I’ve never been anywhere like that,” George said wistfully.

“Do you want to travel?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been on a holiday abroad since I was a kid, unless you count when I went to Switzerland for the Prix, which definitely wasn’t a holiday,” George said with a small laugh, “I always thought I wouldn’t have time for travelling unless it was for touring. At least until I retire.”

“But if you had time in your grand future plans, would you?”

“Maybe,” George said thoughtfully, “But I don’t think I will.”

Jack felt like George might have liked the idea, but he wasn’t letting himself consider it. They lapsed into a more comfortable silence this time, as they sipped their coffees. Jack would have loved to know what George was thinking. He wondered if anything he’d said had given him pause, maybe made him consider that plans could change and that it wouldn’t ruin his hard work if they did.

“Any big performances coming up?” Jack asked when George’s mind seemed to return to the present.

“A few assessments and things coming up but…” George paused for a second, “Some of the other final years are rehearsing for the national tour. I didn’t get picked to go and that would usually be our only big spring performance, at least until the end of year gala.”

Jack couldn’t read the emotion that crossed George’s face when he spoke. It wasn’t quite jealousy or anger, it looked more like shame or embarrassment.

“You didn’t get picked to go?”

“N-no. I mean, I think it’s just because we have this new guy, Max, who transferred at the beginning of the year and he’s really good and he sort of fits the parts I would usually do. But he’s…yeah.”

Jack thought George was about to say that this Max person was better than he him. But he stopped himself, whether it was because he didn’t believe it or he didn’t want to say it out loud he couldn’t tell. He knew he should have steered the conversation away from this clearly uncomfortable subject. But when George stared down dejectedly into the foamy milk in his cup, Jack didn’t want to pretend he hadn’t mentioned it.

“This Max guy is pretty good?” he asked lightly.

“Yeah, some freakish prodigy from Holland. He’s a bit shorter than me too and stronger.”

“Shorter than you?” Jack repeated, thinking the comment had been an odd one to make, at least to his unknowledgeable brain.

“Yeah. I mean not that being tall is inherently bad, it doesn’t have to be. It’s more the fact that I used to be five inches shorter this time last year, it makes it harder to maintain control and build proper strength. You always grow in unpredictable sorts of ways too, they try to give you ways to control it but it’s not really possible.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“It’s just one of those things,” George shrugged, “But I mean, they’d always rather you grow upwards than outwards, so I guess I have that. For now at least.”

Jack seriously doubted George was in any danger of letting himself go. He was whippet thin and what little of his body he could remember from their night together hadn’t carried even an ounce of fat. He supposed dancing eight hours a day would do that to a person.

“But it’s not like that’s your fault,” Jack said. If people did get to choose how their bodies developed he would have asked God for a few extra inches of height and maybe bigger biceps.

“No but if you don’t look the part, you aren’t getting the part. Kids get sent home all the time because puberty isn’t doing them any favours. Talent and hard work count for a lot, but if your legs naturally don’t turn out enough or you’re not flexible or your boobs are too big, for the girls obviously, then there’s no point keeping you around.”

“Sounds…healthy.”

“It’s worse for the girls to be honest. It gets ugly.”

The more Jack heard about ballet school, the more he wondered how safe it was to keep a group of essentially children in such a cloistered environment where their bodies and minds were controlled so much. It wasn’t even like boarding school where Jack could escape on alternate weekends. And sure they had archaic rules and rituals but at least someone wasn’t telling him what he should eat and how he should move and how he should look, as well as drilling their own special doctrine into his head. Ballet school sounded like a toxic cesspit just waiting to boil over.

“For me it’s not really how I look anyway, it’s how it’s affecting my dancing,” George shrugged, draining the last drops of coffee from his mug.

“Affecting it in a bad way?”

George nodded.

“I don’t know, I feel like I’m trying harder than ever but it’s not working. Today when I got held behind they were telling me it wasn’t just my technique that’s regressing but now my heart’s not in it. And I’m not on the tour so…sorry, I feel like we always end up talking about me and dancing.”

“I don’t mind,” Jack said as he fought the urge to reach out and put his hand on top of George’s. He couldn’t stand the pained expression that had clouded his face as he spoke, “It sounds like you need to talk about it.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe you need someone who doesn’t understand and can just listen.”

“Maybe,” George said again, with a small smile this time.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Jack said, meeting George’s smile. And he didn’t miss the way George’s hand twitched where it was laying on the table.


	9. Chapter 9

Jack didn’t know when he’d let his guard down. But somehow it had happened and he was back to texting George every day and giving him free coffees whenever he came into the café. He had stuck to his word though, and he hadn’t done anything that transgressed the boundaries of friendship. And George had been a perfect gentleman about things too. The tension that simmered beneath the surface felt inevitable though. But Jack just didn’t think he was ready to let George in again, not yet anyway.

After their coffee in the Opera House, they’d met up a few more times, mostly for coffee or a drink. But once Jack had ended up following George as he trailed round the dancewear shops in the area when he’d run into him while he was on a break. It had been entertaining watching George explain exactly what a dance belt was and why he had to wear one. Maybe a few of the comments that day had extended into flirting, but it had all been innocent enough. It had been distinctively less amusing when Jack had seen the bill George racked up from purchasing just a handful of essentials.

“Jesus Christ,” Jack couldn’t help but say, making the cashier laugh.

“I told you dance was expensive,” George said with a wry smile as he stuffed the tights and shoes into a Royal Opera House branded tote bag.

Beside that one occasion where he had offered to accompany George. Jack mostly left it for him to reach out. He had left things in his hands, when he’d told him he forgave him, so it seemed like the sensible thing to do. And a part of him didn’t want to be the one pushing things this time, since it had backfired before. He didn’t want to get carried away and convince himself George was ready for things he clearly wasn’t.

At least he tried to. Sometimes it was hard to resist sending him a text or a photo, just to grab a little bit of George’s attention and initiate a conversation. There was just something a little bit thrilling about knowing that miles away, in his room or at school or in the studio, George was thinking about him. Even if it was nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.

_you’re up early_

_so are you_

_i’m always up early. plus i have class every Saturday_

_i forgot your school likes to punish you on a weekly basis_

_ha ha. you still haven’t told me why you’re awake at this horrific hour_

_my brother woke us all up this morning. he got his acceptance letter from cambridge_

_oh wow. congrats_

_he’s insufferable about it. mum cried_

_that’s sweet_

_yeah_

_what time does your class end?_

_1_

_want to meet up?_

Jack tried hard to ignore the fact that he was breaking the first boundary he’d placed between himself and George.

_yeah sure. you can come to mine if you like? alex is away for the weekend_

Jack was also fairly sure going round to George’s room also counted as another strike against his record. But he wanted to get out of the house. From where he sat, slouched on the sofa, he could hear his mum on the phone to his grandma. Even though he couldn’t speak Korean very well, he didn’t need to know what words she was using to hear the pride in her voice. His mind unhelpfully reminded him that he couldn’t remember a time she’d talked about him that way. He was happy for Max, he really was. And his brother was pleased enough not to miss him for one day.

_sure. text me your address, i’ll meet you there_

The time was nearing two o’clock and Jack was stood on a quiet street in Pimlico staring up at a white house that did not look dissimilar to his own. It was hard to tell from the outside that it wasn’t a normal house or flats, but he’d doubled checked the address George had sent him and it was definitely the boarding house. He’d text George to let him know he was outside but he hadn’t gotten a response yet. Somehow he didn’t feel like he could just walk up and knock on the front door. He wasn’t sure what the school’s official policy about visitors was.

“Hey Jack!” a voice called from his left and Jack turned to see George hurrying up the street towards him. His cheeks were flushed like he’d been running, “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

“It’s alright. I haven’t been here long,” Jack smiled as George fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a red lanyard which had a white card dangling from the end. He pressed it to the black keypad below the buzzer and the door unlocked with a loud click.

The interior of the building looked much more like Jack had expected, reminiscent of his own school days. The fairly soulless white walls were adorned with a notice board telling residents to respect their neighbours, next to a poster about proper nutrition and another advertising the school’s counselling services.

“You are allowed guests right?” Jack asked, just to make sure, as they passed a large dining hall and kitchen which was empty save for a boy who seemed to be wrestling with the blender.

“Yeah we are. Just no overnight guests,” George said as he opened the door for Jack and led him up an echoing stairwell. Jack had expected to be smuggled in or something. If not to avoid trouble, then because George wouldn’t want to be seen with him. But no such thoughts seemed to be crossing George’s mind.

They reached the top floor and the two of them walked down a cramped corridor with a sloped ceiling, evidently originally part of the attic. The room George opened the door to was similarly lopsided with the beds tucked away at the end of the room where George definitely couldn’t have stood up straight. On one side of the room was a neatly made bed with dark blue covers and a wall beside it covered in photos, ticket stubs and postcards. On the other side the bed was also tidy and proper but the wall was bare, there were a few books on a shelf and a yoga mat leant against the end of the bed.

“Me and Alex drew the short straw with this room,” George said, lifting a pile of folded clothes off a desk chair and placing it on top of the single wardrobe in the room, “But it’s quiet up here.”

“Alex is your best friend?” Jack asked, perching on the edge of the bed while George took the chair.

“Yeah,” George said with a smile, “We’ve been friends since we were ten.”

Jack listened passively as George jumped into the story of how they met. Of how Alex had shoved a kid who was laughing at George’s abysmal performance in math class and George had to join the brawl when it became clear that Alex was not up to physical confrontation. And their friendship had been forged in the weeks of detention that followed. Listening to the soft lilt of George’s voice reminded Jack of why he’d text him. He needed something to ground him and take his mind off home.

“Your parents must be pleased about your brother?” George said, clearly not being able to sense how much Jack didn’t want to think about his brother.

“Oh yeah. He’s a right superstar in their eyes,” Jack said with a rueful smile.

“I guess Cambridge is…” George started but seemed to lose the words he wanted to say.

“Where they planned for us both to go? Yeah. And he got into Dad’s college too, which means he’s so excited because Max can get his old room, and he can join the Rugby team just like he did,” Jack tried hard not to sound bitter but it didn’t work, “He deserves it. He’s a smart kid and he works a lot harder than I do. But it just…it just feels like they’re rubbing it in that I didn’t do the same.”

Jack groaned and flopped onto his back, rubbing his hands over his face. He thought back to summers of his dad playing with them both in the back garden, giving them tips of how to get onto Westminster’s rugby team, and telling them how much fun they’d have and how they’d make friends for life. Only Jack was always too small and scrawny. When he showed up to try-outs the most he got was a few snide comments and poorly disguised amusement. He might have felt better if his dad hadn’t looked more disappointed than he was when he trudged home covered in mud and no position on the team or even the subs bench to show for it.

Still, at least he was smart, and he ought to have made up for his physical failings in other ways. But he couldn’t concentrate in class and he argued with the teachers and he’d left with disappointing grades and no chance for his father to vicariously relive his university days. It didn’t matter that he still went to a perfectly respectable university and he was doing well. It especially didn’t matter now Max had fulfilled all their dreams.

Jack didn’t notice George had moved from his seat until he felt the mattress dip beside him and moved his hands from his face to see George lying down next to him, his feet propped against his pillow so Jack was looking at him upside down.

“Did you want to go to Cambridge?” George asked gently.

“I don’t know. I applied. It was just what everyone did, it was what I was supposed to do,” Jack said with a shrug.

“Well if you wanted to go to King’s more, then your parents should be glad you’re doing what makes you happy.”

“That’s the thing…I don’t know if it does make me happy. I only picked King’s because they’d take my grades and it meant I could live at home.”

“Do you like studying maths?”

“I dunno,” Jack shrugged again, “I don’t dislike it.”

The look on George’s face told him the idea of being so directionless was foreign to him. And it probably was. Here was someone who had been working for most of his life towards one single goal, his one true dream. While Jack wasn’t sure he’d ever had a dream or anything he’d wanted to achieve. He didn’t study because he loved it; he didn’t even do it because he had some career path he wanted to set himself on. He didn’t work because he had to; his parents would have financed his entire life if he’d just ask. He saved almost all of his wage, but he didn’t know what he was saving for.

“If you don’t want the life your parents want for you. You don’t have to feel bad about not following _their_ dreams.”

Jack didn’t say it out loud but pleasing his parents was probably the only motivation he could find inside his heart. And he couldn’t even do that.

“You can chase your own dreams,” George said quietly, turning onto his side so he could look at Jack properly. Jack felt his fingers ghosting through his hair, tickling the top of his scalp, the was sensation soothing but he found his heart beating a little harder.

“I’m not sure I have any dreams,” Jack mumbled, “I’m not like you.”

A thoughtful expression crossed George’s face for a moment.

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

“It’d be nice to know where I’m going though.”

“Who said I know?” George challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t be difficult,” Jack huffed with a little laugh. George smiled and for a moment he made to lean down, and Jack knew he was about to kiss him. George caught himself at the last second and pulled back clearly remembering what Jack had said about being friends. But Jack wondered if they were a bit beyond that now. Maybe he was foolish for trusting him, but there was something in George that drew him in, again and again. This was always where they were headed. Jack couldn’t imagine a world where the two of them could be _just_ friends.

“It’s okay,” Jack breathed.

So George kissed him. Even though the angle was off and they both had to strain to meet in the middle, it still took Jack’s breath away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!

Predictably, Jack ended up staying the night. But they didn’t have sex. So maybe Jack wasn’t as predictable as he feared. Instead he got to wake up beside George, crammed together in his little single bed, sweaty and warm from the covers and body heat. It wasn’t sexy but it was nice in its own way. As Jack lay, pressed between the wall and George, he contemplated taking off the oversized t-shirt emblazoned with the Royal Ballet logo but somehow it felt inappropriate. Instead he settled for trailing his hands up the bare skin of George’s arm, trying to subtly wake him from his deep sleep. George’s nose scrunched, like he was trying to get rid of an itch, then his eyes slowly opened, blinking at the daylight that peaked through the half-drawn curtains.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Jack murmured as George looked at the body lying next to him.

“This is new,” George said, smiling.

“A good kind of new?”

“We’ll see.”

George yawned, stretching his arms above his head, he glanced to his left at the clock on his bedside table.

“Jesus it’s late.”

“What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“That’s not late.”

“It is for me. I’m usually up way before now.”

“This is better though,” Jack said, tentatively resting his head on George’s chest, “One Sunday off won’t kill you.”

“Just one Sunday,” George mumbled, somewhat unconvincingly.

They had ended up staying up pretty late last night. After the kiss, George had told Jack he knew what would take his mind off things and he had set up some truly terrible movie on his laptop. The two of them had lay side by side watching it as George provided commentary on his favourite scenes and Jack laughed at the absurdity of the plot and the stunts that defied all laws of physics. After that Jack couldn’t help himself but lean in again and they’d spent the best part of an hour making out. By that point all of Jack’s good intentions had flown out the window. They’d only fallen asleep after three episodes of Brooklyn Nine Nine which Jack had argued he’d needed to cleanse his mind from the terrible film.

“You have any plans for today?” Jack asked.

“No, not really. You?”

“Just Sunday dinner at home.”

“They’ll be wondering where you got to.”

“It’s fine. I’m an adult.”

In fact, Jack was fairly sure his mum was going to yell at him when he walked back through his front door. Abandoning his family when they should have been celebrating his brother was a pretty shitty thing to do. They’d all be pissed off, and rightly so. He was saved from having to ponder that thought for too long because the door opened.

Jack didn’t get to see who it was that was coming in the room because George was leaping from the bed and throwing the covers back over Jack’s head. He didn’t know if it was a deliberate ploy to hide him, but he didn’t think it would work.

“Alex!”

So that answered Jack’s first question.

“George…are…”

George interrupted Alex before he could address the elephant – aka Jack – in the room.

“I thought you weren’t coming back until tonight.”

“I was going to. But Chloe and Alicia wanted to spend the day in London so I came down with them, they’re just downstairs…George, who’s in your bed?”

Jack guessed that was his cue to pull the duvet from off his head.

“Hi.”

Even though George was facing away from him he could see how red his face was from the sliver of his profile he could see. The other boy – Alex – was staring at Jack with a mixture of shock, amusement and respect painted across his cheerful face. He was also staring at Jack like he was some kind of exhibit at the zoo. The silence that followed was unbearably awkward for Jack as George had clearly no intentions of explaining to his best friend who was sleeping in his room and Alex seemed happy to just look at the two of them.

“I’m Jack,” he said, trying to find anything that would break the silence. Alex’s face seemed to light up even more when he said his name.

“So this is-!”

“Yes Alex this is Jack!” George interrupted, looking very much like he wanted the ceiling to cave in on all of them just so he wouldn’t have to live through this moment in his life. Jack was more than just curious about what Alex had been about to say, but just the mere fact that he seemed to know his name sparked an interest. It made him smile to know George was speaking about him to other people, so long as it was all good things.

“You know we’re not allowed overnight guests,” Alex said.

“I know,” George said exasperatedly, “But I also know you’re not going to tell on me.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

Alex looked over George’s shoulder at Jack, like he wanted to make sure he was still there. Jack gave him a timid smile which Alex returned with one of his own, like the two of them were in on some secret at George’s expense.

“Did you come up here for something?” George asked, sounding like he was rather keen for Alex to leave the room again. Jack hoped that was so the two of them could get back to more important things. Things that hopefully involved a little less talking.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to see if the you, well I guess the two of you, wanted to spend the day with us. We’re going to the zoo.”

“The zoo?”

“Yes the zoo,” Alex said slowly, “You know the place with the animals where you’d-“

“I know what a zoo is!”

“Well do you want to come?” Alex asked, “And Jack too?”

Jack thought it was kind of him to invite him too, considering they’d only known each other for all of two minutes and he had been found in his best friend’s bed. He saw George glance over his shoulder at him, as if to ask him if he was keen. George didn’t look enthralled by the idea himself, probably because he was hoping to avoid any interrogation from Alex. Jack just shrugged at him, as if to say – _it’s your call_. A day at the zoo sounded so wonderfully mundane that it appealed to Jack. And the more hours spent away from home and away from his mother’s wrath the better.

“Sure, just give us ten minutes to get dressed,” George said to both Jack and Alex’s surprise.

“Great, I’ll uh, be downstairs with the girls.”

Maybe it was a recipe for disaster but ten minutes later they were stood in the common room in front of Alex and his two sisters. Jack was trying to figure out how to best wear the hoodie George had lent him without looking like he was drowning in material. Having the sleeves rolled up several times made him feel a little bit like a child, even though he was the oldest one of their group.

It was apparent by the time they arrived at the zoo that any worries Jack had about awkwardness or not fitting in were gone. Alex and his sisters were refreshingly normal and there seemed to be something hard wired into their DNA that made them all impossible to dislike. When they told Jack they had another sister and brother at home, Jack was sure it had to be the happiest household in England. But he was also sure that a house full of five teenagers was more energy than he could handle. Alex seemed the calmest of the three of them but he was also the oldest so maybe he had grown out of it.

It was also clear the zoo was the girls’ idea and Alex was tagging along as supervision. Jack got the sense that Alex was very used to going along with the whims of fifteen and fourteen year olds. They dragged their group of five from exhibit to exhibit, asking them to act as their photographers as they posed in front of meerkats and lemurs and chimpanzees. They even pushed Jack and George into frame in front of the penguin enclosure because they claimed they were too cute not to take a photo with. Jack made sure he asked them to send it to him, vaguely noting that it might be the only photo he ever got of him and George.

As they sat for lunch in the café Jack realised that his face hurt from all the laughing and smiling he’d been doing. He glanced across at George who was tucking into his BLT with gusto and thought he seemed lighter and more carefree than he usually did. He caught Jack’s eye and smiled, before turning back to the video Chloe was showing him on her phone.

“Alex didn’t tell us that George had a boyfriend,” Alicia decided to announce to the table, just as Jack was thinking they’d gotten away with not having to answer any inconvenient questions.

“In my defence I didn’t know until this morning,” Alex said, holding his hands up.

“Well we’re…” Jack was unsure of what exactly to say. He could hardly explain to a fourteen-year-old than him and George had fucked once and it had ended horribly and they’d just spent the night together after promising that they were just going to be friends. He wasn’t sure he could put it into words to explain it to himself.

“It’s new,” George said with an air of finality. Jack liked that it didn’t exclude the possibility of him someday becoming George’s boyfriend – a position he was very much interested in.

Jack left them at the tube station, deciding that he really ought to be showing his face at home. And knowing that it wasn’t really an option for him to come back to George’s with Alex back and him having classes the next day. Alex shepherded his sisters away onto the escalator to give them some privacy.

“I’ll, uh, see you soon,” George said with a hint of hopefulness.

“Yeah. I’m sure you will,” Jack smiled, “Maybe we can talk about…everything.”

“Yeah.”

Jack hesitated for a moment, teetering on the balls of his feet before he decided _fuck it_ and leant in to kiss George. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t been doing plenty of this just the night before. He enjoyed the dazed look it left on George’s face as he hurried off in the direction of the bus stop. He spared a final glance over his shoulder to see George grinning at him, still stood where Jack had left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: i don't really know the ages of alex's siblings except that they're younger and he's meant to be 18/19 in this fic so :)


	11. Chapter 11

Jack was lingering by his front door keeping a keen eye out for any of his family members who might be lurking. He didn’t know if he’d ever be in the mood for their inquisition. But he didn’t feel like today was a good time. When George had called him, something had been different in his voice. He was used to a distracted George, a grumpy George, and a fiercely determined George. Occasionally he could tease out the fun, adventurous side of George. But he understood that the nature of George’s life was inherently stressful.

But this morning, when Jack had been woken up by the sound of his ringing phone at 9 o’clock, he had been overjoyed to see George’s name on the screen. But the voice on the other end of the line had sounded low and defeated. He’d had a moment where he wasn’t even sure if it was George on the other end of the phone.

“George?”

“Yeah,” there was a little laugh, but it sounded tired.

“Are you okay?”

There was a pause.

“Can I come over? You said we had things to talk about.”

“Yeah, I mean…yeah, we do.”

Jack definitely wasn’t opposed to seeing George, since the trip to the zoo George had been busy with extra classes so they’d been stuck texting and facetiming. But he didn’t know if he was mentally prepared to have a serious conversation about their relationship – or maybe their lack thereof. So he was stood hovering by the front door for two reasons. The first was to keep George away from the prying eyes of his family. And the second was that he didn’t think inviting George up to his room - which was the only appropriate place for them to talk undisturbed – was a good idea.

There was a knock on the door, the sound of an unsure fist rapping against the frosted glass and Jack swung open the heavy door, not even waiting a sensible amount of time to hide the fact that he’d been stood mere feet away from the past fifteen minutes. George looked suitably taken aback when Jack opened the door before he’d even lowered his hand.

“Morning,” Jack said cheerily, very keen to move George out of a two-hundred-foot radius from his house. It left him standing in the doorframe, a little too close to George who seemed not to know whether he should approach Jack or step back a little.

“Hey,” George smiled and once Jack got a better look at him, he saw he looked as tired as he’d sounded on the phone. There were purple-ish shadows beneath his eyes which were ringed with red, like he’d been crying not that long ago. The thought of George crying was equally disturbing and heart-breaking to Jack. Rationally he knew, of course, George had emotions. But he always seemed to have his shit together so the thought of him in tears was a jarring one.

“I know a good place for doughnuts,” Jack said quickly.

“What?”

“Doughnuts. We can get some, then maybe we can talk.”

“Oh…Okay,” George shrugged, seemingly fine with going along with Jack’s whims.

Jack grabbed his coat off the stand near the door and slipped out, shutting the door behind him slowly so it wouldn’t make a loud noise. If George had been expected to be let in, rather than accosted on the doorstep, he didn’t say so. In fact he didn’t say anything at all as Jack led them to the tree-lined streets of Notting Hill. Jack was left to comment on the window displays of the boutique clothing and antique furniture shops, feeling like someone ought to fill the silence.

Jack ordered for the two of them as he sent George off to hold them two seats at the window. He joined him five minutes later holding a tray with two coffees and two doughnuts.

“I didn’t know which flavour you liked but I got you dark chocolate because you can’t go wrong with that. But if you want to have a bite of my cinnamon swirl I might be persuaded,” Jack said as he put the tray down on their table. He hoped it might get a small smile out of George but there wasn’t even a flicker on his face. Instead he just picked up his cup of coffee and held it in his hands like he needed the warmth. He didn’t even look at Jack, just stared at his doughnut with an expression on his face that looked like contempt.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like chocolate,” Jack said, taking a large bite out of his cinnamon swirl.

“I do,” George said quietly, the first thing he’d said since they’d left Jack’s house. Still he just stared at the doughnut.

“George,” Jack said gently as he tried to weigh up how to approach this. He wasn’t sure if they were close enough to dish out a bit of tough love, though that would be his chosen method of dealing with George. He had a feeling that being careful would only be rebuffed by stubbornness, “Are you okay?”

George shook his head, his mouth pressed into a tight line. A pained expression passed over his face and Jack thought he was going to start crying for one awful second. But the moment passed and instead George let out a lengthy sigh.

“Everyone left for tour this morning,” he finally said.

Jack instantly remembered George in the café at the opera house telling him how he hadn’t been picked to go on the national tour with the other people in his year. Even for someone completely clueless like Jack, he could tell it was a pretty big opportunity he was missing out on.

“Everyone?” Jack asked, probably a little unhelpfully.

“Basically. Except for the people who are just lost causes and…and me, which I guess means-…” George cut himself off. Perhaps the reality of lumping himself in with the hopeless cases was more than he could stomach. For all his hard work and dedication, Jack couldn’t believe that George would be a lost cause.

“I’m sorry George,” Jack said, slowly resting his hand on top of George’s where it was scratching the material of his denim-clad thigh. To his surprise George turned his hand so he could grip it fiercely. With his free hand, he broke off a piece of his doughnut, chewing carefully like it was going to be filled with battery acid not chocolate.

“I just…I feel like I love ballet, but ballet doesn’t love me,” George said, swallowing with what looked like some difficulty, “It hurts. It fucking hurts.”

Jack didn’t know what to say, so he settled for squeezing his hand. He knew this wasn’t the time to discuss their particular situation. This was a bad day for George and all he wanted to do was be there for him.

“Now I’m just on my own for the next fortnight, taking classes with like four other people. They said it’ll be a good chance for me to get some more attention, some one-on-one coaching but…I dunno.”

Jack knew that ordinarily George would jump at that chance. But today he seemed to have given up. It wasn’t _his_ George he was sat next to – if there was such a thing. But he found himself missing the George who talked about his dancing with a fervent passion, like he would move mountains just to reach his dreams.

“I’d love to see you dance,” Jack commented, a little off-handedly.

“You would?” George asked, looking a little surprised.

“Yeah. The way you talk about dancing…I’d like to see it. Plus, my knowledge of dancing doesn’t extend beyond the club dancefloor.”

George snorted a little. Then picked up his coffee, eying it thoughtfully.

“You could…if you wanted.”

“Yeah?”

“The studios are empty today.”

Jack, admittedly, hadn’t meant right that second. But if it was what George wanted to do, and if it would help at all, then he didn’t think watching him dance would be such a hardship. As they left George’s half eaten doughnut behind, Jack wondered if it was usual for George to dance for other people before. Of course, in his classes and rehearsals he probably danced in front of hundreds of people. But dancing for one person, alone, that had to be different. Right?

Jack found himself craning his neck to look around as they stood by George’s locker so he could find something more comfortable to dance in than jeans and trainers. The school was deathly quiet but it looked more like a normal school than Jack had been expected. There was just less classrooms and a thousand per cent more dance studios than most schools had.

George led him into a small studio just a few yards from his locker. He didn’t bother switching on the lights, as the sun shining through the skylights would be enough. Apart from a small piano and ballet barre the room was completely empty. Though the effect of the mirrored wall gave the impression of a much wider space. Jack didn’t know how they learnt to stand staring at themselves all day every day. The huge mirror and empty room hid nothing, letting himself appear unobscured for scrutiny and judgement. Jack ended up sitting with his back to the mirror, knees tucked against his chest and he watched George replace his jeans with shorts and his trainers with shoes that looked more like socks. George seemed to have no issues with the mirror, his eyes immediately focusing on a space above Jack’s head, honing in on his feet, his ankles, then his leg as he stretched them out. Jack enjoyed the view as he raised his arms high above his head so his t-shirt revealed a small sliver of his torso.

“Do you want me to play some music?” Jack asked once George seemed to be done stretching.

“Uh yeah,” George held his hand out for his phone and Jack could see him typing the name of something into his Spotify, searching for a specific song. An odd feeling of apprehension filled his chest. For one moment he wondered what he would do if George turned out to be awful. Then he remembered he was sitting in the Royal Ballet School and there was little chance of that.

The steady sound of a drum started from Jack’s phone as George handed it back to him. It was a surprising choice, at least for Jack who had been expecting something more classical, something that reminded him of sugarplum fairies and swans. But clearly it was the score for a dance he knew. George held himself for a beat, his back turned away from Jack.

Then he danced.

Jack didn’t know the story he was trying to tell or where the dance was from. But in every inch of his body, through every look and gesture, there was a deep pain and anguish he’d never seen on anyone before. He felt like George was carving himself open and letting everything that lived inside of him crawl out from the cracks in his body and present themselves to Jack. Except for all he could tell, it was like he’d forgotten Jack was in the room, too busy dancing for an invisible audience hidden in the glass of the mirror. As the music swelled and George leapt and spun, Jack began to wonder if this was a dance of his own making. He danced on and on and Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away. He knew he was seeing the real George, all sides of him. The part that lived to dance and would do anything to make sure he did it for the rest of his life, and the part that didn’t know where he was going wrong and wondered if he could carry on down a fruitless path when all dancing did was cause him pain. And Jack knew he loved him for all those parts.

The song came to an abrupt end and so did George. He was facing George and he finally looked down to meet his eyes, acknowledging his presence. Jack opened his mouth to say something, anything about how awed he was, but the words died in his throat when he saw the tears sliding down George’s cheeks.

“George?” Jack rose to his feet carefully, approaching George like he was a stray dog who might attack at any moment. But instead George crumbled, like a man made of dust Jack had disturbed and sent scattering in the wind. He dropped to his knees with an ungainly thud, the opposite of the picture of grace he’d been just moments before. His shoulders hunched over as he curved inwards on himself, like he could hide himself from whatever it was in his head that was hurting him so much. Jack fell to his knees in front of him, and gathered him up in his arms, like his own body could act as a shield from the world that bared down on them through the glass above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love me some angst


	12. Chapter 12

Jack looked down at the sleeping body next to him and thought about how long the day felt. Yet when he looked to the clock on his bedside table, the numbers just visible in the low yellow light, he could see it had just gone ten o’clock. He felt tired, but he didn’t want to sleep. Instead he lay on his side facing George, taking in his pale cheeks and the tired lines around his frowning eyes. He reached out and then stopped himself, suddenly hesitant to touch. Not because he was scared of disturbing George but because for the first time, George felt fragile to him, like something he could break if he wasn’t careful. And Jack wasn’t a terribly careful person.

Before it seemed fine to blow hot and cold with George. Jack held all the cards after all, it was George who had fucked up before and it was George who had to earn back his trust. He could flirt with George and pull back when it got too real. He could sleep in his bed and still be the one to initiate any serious conversations they had. Maybe it wasn’t entirely fair but Jack thought he’d earned that. Now he had two problems.

The first he’d known for some time. He’d known George hadn’t been alright. He’d known it since the first time he’d sat down opposite him in the café and tried to brighten his bad day. But George had pretended he was on top of things, and pretended it wasn’t going so terribly, and pretended he wasn’t distraught that his dreams were slipping away from him. And Jack had gone along with the charade. At first it hadn’t been his place to say. What did he know after all? Who was he to inject his opinion? But now he felt that maybe he had a duty to tell George that what he was doing was making him so clearly miserable and sooner or later it was going to tear him apart.

The second problem was a newer realisation. One that had first dawned on him that day when George had danced for him and had crystalised in the hours since. As Jack held him on the cold, hard floor of the dance studio, and as he collected their things and called a taxi once George pulled it together enough to breathe evenly. He felt it even more keenly as he coaxed George through a dinner he’d politely asked his mother to send up to his room and when they lay under the covers, Jack’s arms cradling George’s head. It was a burning need to protect and to fix everything that was wrong and to fight off everything that might hurt him. It was the feeling of love. Jack had figured that out as George had finally drifted to sleep.

And all that meant he couldn’t stomach the guilt that came with messing George around. Feeling the undeniable tug of slumber, Jack leaned in and pressed his lips to George’s cheek before he let himself drift off.

Predictably, George was already up when Jack woke up the next morning. It was the sound of his soft voice that roused Jack from his slumber, talking quietly as he held his phone up to his ear. He shifted a little, accidentally bumping his arm against George’s side.

“Sorry Mum I have to go,” George said as Jack opened his eyes, “Love you.”

As Jack observed George, sat up in bed beside him, he tried to gauge how long he’d been awake for. He still looked tired. But Jack supposed it was the tiredness that went beyond a lack of sleep.

“Morning,” George said with a wry smile.

“Morning,” Jack yawned, “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.”

Dragging himself out of the warmth of the duvet, Jack hauled himself into a sitting position for he was mirroring George. He wanted to reach out to George, but now the immediate storm had past, he didn’t want to suffocate or smother him. The George he knew was strong and stubborn and didn’t ask for help.

“My mum wants me to go home,” George said, turning his phone over in his hand.

“Maybe that’s not a bad idea,” Jack said rubbing his bleary eyes, “While everyone else is away too, maybe it’s a good time…”

“It’ll look bad if I ask to go home,” George said, staring at the striped duvet they were sitting under. Jack hadn’t been able to meet his eyes since he’d woken up. He wanted George to just look at him because then he’d know he was okay. He’d know he wasn’t teetering on the edge of breaking down again.

“Sometimes you have to put what you need first. Screw what they think.”

George sighed, a sound so heavy Jack thought he could hear his bones creaking under the pressure he’d put there.

“George,” Jack said, a little more firmly, “Look at me.”

And he finally did, dragging his eyes up to meet Jack’s. And Jack realised from one look at his face that he wasn’t upset, he was embarrassed. Humiliation and shame were drawn across his face, like he couldn’t bear having Jack look at him after the events of the past twenty-four hours. It made Jack want to shake him. He was glad he’d been the one George had sought out when he was upset, and whether he wanted it or not, he was glad he’d let Jack take care of him. He wanted to tell George he didn’t have a thing in the world to be embarrassed about. He wished he could tell him that in odd ways he envied him. He wished he could care about something so deeply that it hurt, that he needed it like he needed to breathe. He wished he had dreams and drive like George did. Instead of wasted opportunities and unfulfilled potential.

But all he said was;

“Want to take a bath?”

It had the intended effect. George laughed and then a blush spread across his cheek, Jack hoped not from embarrassment anymore, but from picturing him in the bath. The idea gave him a nice ego boost either way. Jack had added a few more things to the mental list of topics they had to discuss but they didn’t have to do that this morning.

Jack led George across the landing to his bathroom, his arms laden with towels and he made George hang them on the towel rail as he drew the bath, making sure he poured in copious amounts of bubble bath. Sitting back on his feet as he waited for the tub to fill with hot water, he glanced at George who was holding a soap dish in his hand.

“Looking for something?” Jack asked, nodding at the object in his hand.

“No I was just…looking. It’s a nice bathroom,” George said, looking a little self-conscious as he put the soap back down on the marble sink.

“It’s a bathroom,” Jack shrugged, taking the bathmat off the brass radiator and laying it on the floor, enjoying the way his feet sank into the soft fabric.

“Well it’s a very nice one,” George shot back, a little spark returning to his voice, “Your house is very nice.”

“Thanks. I’ll let my great-grandfather know you like his taste in real estate.”

George just rolled his eyes, seemingly giving up on using witty repartee to gain an upper hand as he began stripping off his clothes. Rather than join him in a race to see who could get naked the fastest, Jack just sat back and admired the view. If George was going to use his obscenely chiselled body to try render Jack speechless, then who was he to stop him?

“The bath is ready,” George said, evidently trying very hard not to waver beneath Jack’s gaze. Jack stared for one more second before he reached behind him to turn off the taps.

He let George get in first, before he lowered himself into the steaming water. The bath was a little small for both of them, especially after taking into account George’s excessively long limbs. But they settled on a position that worked as they sat facing each other, Jack’s legs curled up towards his chest and George’s hanging over the side of the bath.

“I thought this would be sexier,” Jack admitted as he tried to avoid getting poked in the eye by George’s toes.

“Me too honestly,” George grinned.

Still Jack could think of worse places he could be than soaking in a warm bath with an incredibly hot guy who may or may not be his boyfriend. He added that thought to his mental check list.

“It’s nice though,” George added, using one of his feet to flick a spray of water in Jack’s direction.

“Hey!”

George just laughed; a light, carefree sound. Jack glowed inwardly with the pleasure of knowing he was the one who had drawn that sound from George. He responded by pushing a wave of bubbles towards George, ignoring the excess that splashed over the edge of the bath. The whole situation descended into a raucous childlike game until they were both shouting and laughing and there was more water on the floor than in the bath. They only stopped at the sound of banging on the bathroom door.

“Hey!” Jack had to fight back laughter at the sound of his brother’s voice, “Sex is for the bedroom only!”

“We’re not having sex!” Jack yelled back, giggling at George’s red face.

“What the fuck are you doing then?!”

“Is that really what you think sex sounds like Max?” Jack called, ignoring his question.

“Fuck off. Mum will kill you if you ruin the new tiling,” he said. In the distance, Jack could hear a second voice calling up the stairs, “She also wants me to ask if you and your mystery boyfriend want breakfast?”

Jack looked at George who was still pink in the face but nodded.

“Sure!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this was a little lighter than the last chapter


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but spicy

Jack had half been expecting the radio silence that followed from George. He tended to be a little harder to reach when he was busy or stressed out, but he had never pulled away quite so much before. And it felt more deliberate this time. Jack had naively hoped that the day they’d spent at his house, chatting with his mum over breakfast and playing video games with his brother, had been a turning point for them. George would realise he could lean on Jack and that he could use him to escape from the chaos and the pressure of dancing. They’d get through things together and maybe – _hopefully_ – they’d finally have that long overdue conversation and Jack would learn if he was allowed to stop correcting his family when they called George his boyfriend.

He tried to get through to him, but his texts were met with half-assed replies and his calls went unanswered. Part of him was frustrated, and another part was worried. He didn’t know why he kept chasing after him when George was making it so god damn difficult. But he’d think back to the memory of him on his knees on the studio floor and he knew he couldn’t leave him adrift.

So at the end of his shift, Jack trudged across the cobbled square and set up camp outside the entrance to the ballet school, a cup of coffee in his hand as he tried to see if he could recall what time George’s class finished. He had been fairly certain George had classes on Tuesdays but after half an hour he was beginning to give up hope. Scores of girls and boys had left the building but there was no sign of George.

In the end Jack settled for picking up his phone and dialling George’s number. Even though all his other attempts had been rebuffed, he had some vague hope that this time would be different. The phone rang out several times before it went to voice mail. Undeterred, Jack dialled again. And when he was sent to voicemail a second time he rang a third time. And a fourth. And a fifth.

He was so worked up by the time he tried a sixth time that he was momentarily dumbfounded when the call went through, and Jack forget everything he wanted to say and ask.

“Hello?” George, sounding a little annoyed.

“Oh hi, it’s Jack,” Jack stuttered, turning away from the street so he was facing the building behind him. It was a quiet street and it was unlikely anyone was going to be interested in his conversation, but he felt like he wanted a scrap of privacy.

“I know.”

There was an impatience creeping into George’s voice now. Jack should have gotten the message by now that he didn’t really want to speak with him. But he couldn’t shake the righteous feeling that wasn’t fair, that he didn’t deserve to be pushed away. He had been there for George and he wanted to continue to be a shoulder to lean on. Still, George _had_ picked up the phone eventually.

“I just wanted to check in, we haven’t spoken in a while and I wanted to see how you are.”

“I’m fine,” George said shortly. Jack could just imagine the expression on his face; tight-lipped and with a frosty stare.

“George,” Jack said, a little frustration slipping out. He cared about George, despite his better judgement. He knew deep down his feelings went even further than that. But George didn’t make it easy.

“What? Did you ring just to lecture me?” George snapped.

“No, no. I just want to see you, I want to know you’re okay,” Jack said, taking a second to breathe and gather up his patience.

“I’m fine. I’m not a total fucking wreck, I’m not gonna top myself if you don’t text me for one day.”

George’s tone and words went beyond the frustration Jack might have excused. As much as he wanted to cut him some slack for the way he was speaking to him, he wasn’t about to be walked all over. George had things going on, but they didn’t excuse him from acting like a decent human being.

“I didn’t say you were. Don’t get mad at me for caring George,” Jack said, abandoning his previous attempts at keeping his voice steady and kind.

“But I know what you think. I see it when you look at me, you think I’m crazy for doing what I do, for training and dancing when it makes me miserable.”

“I don’t think that George.”

“Sure you do. Everyone fucking does.”

“ _Fine_. If you’ve already made up your mind, I don’t think it’s healthy to push your physical and mental health to the absolute limit for something that never seems to make you happy.”

George didn’t say anything but Jack could practically feel the waves of vindication coming through the phone.

“George I just…let’s just talk. I only-“ Jack was interrupted by the beeping sound that let him know that the call had been disconnected.

“Fuck!”

He didn’t care about the stares he drew from a passing businessman as he kicked the hard brick wall. Now he was positively incensed. Mixed with the worry over George and the anxiety that maybe he was losing him for good, he felt like the earth was sliding beneath his feet. Possessed by a new energy, Jack turned and blindly marched to the tube station up the hill. It was probably an absolutely terrible idea but he found himself taking the tube journey to George’s boarding house. He wasn’t sure what he was going for. He was in half a mind to shake George until he just talked to him and they had one productive conversation about this. A softer part of his mind just wanted to hold him and refuse to let go until they both stopped hurting so much.

He was out of breath by the time he reached the white house and was staring up at the steps. He had been about to push the door open when he saw the keypad and remembered that the last time he’d been here George had used a key fob to let them in. So he was stuck outside on the street, red faced and angry, wondering if he knocked then would somebody let him in if he asked nicely.

He was debating his options when he heard someone call his name from his left. He looked and saw Alex walking up the street, a heavy looking gym bag slung over one shoulder and a red folder in one hand.

“Jack?”

“I-Hi Alex,” Jack said, a little caught off guard. He had to forcibly remind himself that Alex wasn’t the deserving recipient of his bad mood.

“Are you looking for George?” he asked, looking a little hesitant, like perhaps he could sense Jack’s anger.

“Yeah is he…can you let me in?”

“Jack he’s…did he not tell you?”

Jack’s anger finally gave way, melting from ice into cold water. A thousand horrible scenarios ran through his mind as he tried to imagine just what it was he’d been kept out of the loop of.

“Tell me what?”

“He’s gone home. The school, they asked him to leave at the end of last week.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a nice lengthy chapter to make up for the cliffhanger of the last

_“He’s gone home. The school, they asked him to leave at the end of last week.”_

“They expelled him?”

“No, not really. He…I mean, you must know, he’s not been having a good year. I wasn’t there when it happened, but in class last week he collapsed, well, he fainted. Then when he came round and they took him to the nurse’s office, he started yelling at her, saying he was fine and he needed to go back to class. Lando was the one who took him there so he heard everything. But obviously he couldn’t just go back to class. Mrs Williams came and tried to calm him down, then he had a meeting with Toto, and his parents came to collect him. They told me he’s taking a week off to rest but…I don’t know.”

Jack tried to swallow once Alex finished but found a lump had formed in his throat and his mouth was too dry to form words. His mind was flooding with a dozen thoughts of how George must be feeling at the moment, and how on earth he couldn’t have told him. Again, that same mixture of concern and anger reared its head in his chest. It explained some of George’s attitude of the phone, even if it didn’t excuse it. Jack felt a pang of guilt, wishing he’d tried harder not to let things descend into an argument.

“I was just on the phone to him half an hour ago…he didn’t say anything,” Jack said, once he rediscovered his ability to speak.

“You managed to get through to him?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, choosing not to mention the five missed calls that it took to get through.

“He won’t answer my calls. I know he’s with his parents so he should be fine. But before he left he wasn’t sleeping or eating properly and he was training way too hard. I’m really worried about him Jack.”

Jack sighed.

“Me too.”

“How did he sound?” Alex asked and Jack could see earnest urgency shining in his eyes.

“He…not great honestly. We just ended up arguing. It’s the first time I’ve properly spoken to him in a week. I thought he was…I thought we were…”

Jack shook his head, not really sure how he was supposed to end that sentence. What he really needed was to see George. If George could look him in the eye and honestly tell him he didn’t need him, that he was fine, then Jack would walk away. Even if it killed him to do so.

“Actually Alex, you don’t happen to have his parents’ address do you?”

“Yeah I do. Why?”

***

Several hours later Jack sat in his brother’s car, speeding up the A10, the darkening English countryside passing by him. The sun was so low in the sky now that it was beginning to be difficult to see the fields and villages he was driving through. He glanced at his phone, which he had propped up against the dashboard, and saw that Google Maps was telling him it was only twenty minutes until he reached George’s house. He had told himself that he would use the two-and-a-half-hour car journey to figure out what he was going to say. But so far he’d been too focused on the fact that he hadn’t driven much since a year ago when his brother had begrudgingly agreed to put him on the insurance on his car, and not getting lost.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince his brother to let him borrow the car. Even though Jack couldn’t really tell him how long he would need it for. He guessed he must have looked really desperate if Max felt sorry enough for him that he didn’t ask questions. So once he had gotten the address off Alex and procured a car, all that was left was for him to hastily pack in bag and write a brief note for his parents. Jack wondered if he was tempting fate by packing pyjamas but it was going to be almost eight o’clock by the time he arrived and if the worst happened he would just sleep in his car.

He turned off the motorway just before the town of King’s Lynn and suddenly found himself trundling down tree-lined roads that unhelpfully had no streetlights and were barely wide enough to fit his brother’s A Class, let alone another car. Praying he met no oncoming traffic, Jack followed the monotone voice of his directions until he pulled into a small village, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of London. The streets were almost entirely empty, save for a few teenagers on bikes, and apart from houses the only places of note Jack had seen were a model railway shop and a medical centre. He wondered how a young man swanning off to the city to study ballet had gone down in a place like this.

George’s parents house was a little way out of the village, past a well-kept churchyard and down a narrow, gravelled path marked by a rather grand looking stone gateway. There was a small cluster of houses just beyond the gate, not doubt once (or perhaps still) occupied by the tenants of the local landowner. As Jack pulled the car into an empty space in front of the houses he was sure he could hear the distant sound of cows or some other farm animal he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen in his whole life. Except for the occasional summer trip to the Cotswolds, Jack had hardly ever ventured into the English countryside.

He flicked on the interior light of his car to squint at the scrap of paper Alex had given him, just double checking the house number. His Google Maps had only taken him this far and he would clearly have to figure out which house it was on foot. Picking up his phone, he briefly considered texting George but he looked and saw that his signal had gone as soon as he had driven away from the village so there was little chance of a text going through. Not to mention Jack thought his chances were better if he saw George in person.

Deciding to leave his backpack in the car, so it didn’t entirely like he’d invited himself round to the family home of a boy who was probably mad at him and whom he definitely wasn’t actually dating, Jack pulled on his jacket and before he could talk himself out of it, climbed out of his car. House number six turned out to be the one nearest to where he had parked. It was a small red brick cottage, with a rickety-looking wooden porch and a row of plant pots set outside the front door. The flowers nearest the door had a sign stuck in them proudly proclaiming that they belonged to ‘ _Allison’s Garden!_ ’ _._ There was one light on downstairs and Jack could just make out the flashing lights of the TV as they flickered against the window. There were lights on upstairs too and Jack wondered if any of them were George’s room.

Taking a deep breath, Jack rapped his hand on the front door firmly. Almost immediately there was the sounds of barking from within and a voice shouting, presumably at the dog rather than Jack. Through the very small, mottled window on the door, Jack saw the hallway light switch on and someone walking towards him. It was clearly a woman, most likely George’s mum, and Jack felt a moment of relief knowing that he had a few more seconds until he had to see George again.

The door swung open and a kindly looking, middle-aged lady stood in the threshold sporting a smile and large eyes that reminded him of George. Jack was too nervous to fully comprehend that she didn’t look surprised to see him standing there, and he didn’t suppose they got many passers-by who stopped for a chat at eight o’clock on a Tuesday. So instead of introducing himself, he simply stared, dumb founded for a second as she regarded him.

“Who are you?” a small voice asked.

Jack was so preoccupied with desperately trying to regain his powers of speech that he hadn’t noticed that George’s mother wasn’t the only person stood in front of him. Stood behind her legs was a small boy wearing a fluffy dressing gown, no older than six, staring at him with those same large eyes, looking equal parts suspicious and curious. Jack was fairly sure George hadn’t mentioned any younger siblings.

“You’re Jack aren’t you?” George’s mother said, reaching down to ruffle the small boy’s hair.

“Um yes I am,” Jack said, his surprise deepening. He was sure George wouldn’t have told his parents about him, and his momentary warmth at that thought was dashed a second later when she said;

“Alex called me and told me you were coming.”

Jack felt a wave of relief. He didn’t know how much Alex had told her, but it was enough that Jack didn’t have to go through the awkward ordeal of explaining why he was on her doorstep.

“Why don’t you come in? And Ezra,” she looked down at the boy who was still staring at Jack, “Why don’t you go get Uncle George from his bedroom? Tell him he has a visitor.”

“Okay,” the boy said as Jack stepped inside the narrow hallway and the front door was shut behind him. Jack watched him hurry towards the staircase at the end of the hallway and scamper up the stairs. _Uncle George_ , that made a bit more sense.

“Did you not bring anything with you?” George’s mother asked holding her hands out. It took Jack a few seconds to realise she was offering to take his coat from him.

“Uh, I have a bag in the car, but I wasn’t sure…I was going to find a B&B or something,” Jack mumbled, really wanting to not sound like he’d invited himself into her home. Now he was inside the warm house he could hear the low sounds of some weekday night game show on the TV and soft voices in what had to be the living room.

He watched as she hung his coat up on a peg next to the door next to raincoats and wellington boots. The wall beside it was covered in photo frames and as he looked down the hall he could see that most available space was filled with family photos. He could make out a baby George sat on a toy tractor and three children bundled up in coats stood next to a snowman. Reigning in his nosiness, Jack forced his attention back to George’s mother.

“I don’t know how much Alex explained on the phone…” he started, a little uncertain.

“Only that you were a…new friend of George’s and you were worried about him so you were coming to see him,” Jack wondered if it was her choice or Alex’s to forgo the word _boyfriend_ , “And I have to tell you honestly I’m glad. He’s kept to his room most of the time since he’s been back, and he’s always been a sensible boy, a good boy, we can’t imagine him acting the way they were saying at the school.

“But with the way he is right now. I’ll tell you, the last thing I want to do is send him back there on Sunday.”

The look on her face spoke to an emotion that Jack himself was intimately familiar with. He could feel her complete loss as to what was going on in George’s head. If she couldn’t get through to her son, then Jack didn’t know who he was to assume he would have more luck this time.

“Maybe a friend’s what he needs right now. Not his parents.”

Jack was saved from having to come up with a good, a comforting answer by the sound of thundering footsteps coming down the stairs. George’s nephew reappeared, though rather than report back to his grandmother, he skipped into the living room, clearly deciding Jack wasn’t interesting enough to hang around to look at.

“Maybe I should check he’s coming,” George’s mother said, and Jack wish he knew what to do to stop the look of concern on her face.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” Jack said hurriedly, wondering if there was still enough time left to run away, “We spoke earlier on the phone but he…we had an argument and I’m not sure I’m-….”

Jack was so busy trying to come up with excuses to leave that neither he nor George’s mother saw the second figure descend the stairs, though much quieter and slower this time. The two of them didn’t realise they were being watched until they heard a quiet voice call out;

“Jack?”

Jack’s head turned immediately to look at George, hovering on the last carpeted step, one perfectly pointed foot fluttering just above the floor of the hallway like he was frozen, caught between turning around and walking back up the stairs and taking off into a run towards Jack. Maybe it was the effect of seeing him in his childhood home or the faded Harry Potter t-shirt he was wearing, but Jack thought he looked younger than he usually did. He had always considered George wise for his years and more mature than most eighteen years old, barely able to register the year and a half between them. But this George looked unsure and apprehensive and he was staring at Jack like he was a ghost.

Jack watched him glance at his mother and a faint blush covered his cheeks before his eyes flicked back to Jack.

“Alex told me about the school,” Jack said, feeling like he had to explain himself considering they’d spoken only a few hours ago and Jack had told him he thought his life choices were unhealthy and George had sounded angrier than he’d ever heard him before, “I didn’t realise, when I called earlier. I wouldn’t have…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

George didn’t say anything as he continued to stare at Jack, one hand braced against the wall like he was using it to hold himself up. Jack was acutely aware of George’s mother watching the exchange between the two of them keenly, but with George standing less than five metres away from him it was hard to focus on anything else.

“I had to see you in person.”

George still said nothing.

“Why don’t you two go upstairs? It’ll be quieter in your room George,” George’s mother prompted gently. Jack knew by quieter she meant more private, and he was grateful. Whatever conversation he was about to have with George he didn’t really want to have it standing next to his mother and with his family listening from the living room.

George nodded at least and turned to start walking up the stairs again. With an encouraging nod from George’s mother, Jack followed, careful to keep a safe distance. He tried to ignore the obvious stares he got as he walked past the open living room door and the questioning voices that followed him up the stairs. He followed George into a bedroom at the end of the upstairs landing, one that he had been able to see when he was standing outside the house.

The bedroom was much smaller than Jack’s, occupied by a single bed, a narrow wardrobe and a set of drawers. The top of the set of drawers was covered in more trophies and ribbons and awards than Jack could count. There was a photo hung above the drawers showing a slightly younger George stood in front of a large white house on a sunny day, flanked by an older girl and boy on each side, both of them with their arms wrapped around him. George was beaming at the camera, and Jack realised that he looked happier than he had ever seen George before.

“That was taken at White Lodge, the day I graduated from the junior school to the senior school,” George said quietly, obviously noticing Jack looking. He had sat down on his bed and was looking in the direction of the photo as well, a mournful look on his face. Jack couldn’t help but wonder whether he was mourning happier days, or a boy who didn’t exist anymore.

Jack closed the door behind him, listening to it shut with a gentle click. He watched George, who was still staring at the photo, waiting for him to say or do something. George’s hand trailed across the white duvet, stroking the covers, smoothing out invisible creases.

“I’m really tired Jack,” he said quietly. And Jack knew he didn’t just mean it was time for him to get some sleep.

“I know.”

George had fallen quiet again, still avoiding Jack’s eye contact.

“Let’s just lie down, yeah?” Jack suggested gently. He was relieved when George nodded, pulling back the duvet so he could slip underneath it. Following suit, Jack kicked off his shoes and climbed into the small bed, carefully trying to negotiate the uncertain boundaries between him and George.

“We can…I mean, can you just…?” George either didn’t have or didn’t want to use words to describe what he needed. But Jack was happy to let him guide his arms until they were wrapped around him, the two of them cocooned together in the tiny space, their legs tangle and their bodies half lying on top of each other. Jack let one hand settle on his waist, the other resting on the base of his neck.

A sigh seemed to ripple through George’s body, like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding in for far too long. And finally, _finally_ , he glanced upwards and let his eyes meet Jack’s.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispered.

“Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was brought to you by the queen's gambit score (highly reccommend)


	15. Chapter 15

Jack watched George as they sat on the shifting sands of the dunes. The fierce wind that was blowing off the tops of the waves was bitingly cold, stinging the skin on Jack’s face, and whipping George’s hair and the long grass that grew around them. It was a grey and overcast day, too cold for April but George’s house had been loud and full. Here maybe they could talk. Even though right now they were sat in what was becoming familiar silence.

That morning Jack had woken up to find his bag had been brought in from his car and placed at the foot of George’s tiny single bed. He guessed George’s mother had fished his car keys out of his coat pocket and fetched it when they’d been sleeping. The boy curled up in his arms was already awake by the time Jack was too, but he didn’t seem to be in any mood to move. So, Jack was happy to lie there, pretending that there wasn’t a world outside that was spinning without them.

Eventually Jack’s rumbling stomach had been hard to ignore and he’d convinced George to come downstairs with him in search of breakfast. In the warm kitchen Jack properly met the rest of George’s family; his quiet father, his smiling sister and her husband and their son, whom he’d briefly seen the night before. Jack politely answered their questions as a steaming mug of milky tea and a plate of baked beans on toast were placed in front of him and a small unidentifiable dog sniffed around his feet. They seem enthused by the novelty of a new arrival to their house, and Jack supposed George didn’t exactly bring people home often.

It had been George who suggested they drive to the beach and once they’d gotten dressed in their raincoats and scarves, he’d directed Jack for about half an hour until they’d parked up beside the beach. The beach was mostly populated with dog walkers and kite surfers. Jack figured they were the only people stupid enough to sit out on the sand dunes, freezing their toes off.

George hadn’t spoken since they’d picked their spot and sat down. Jack supposed he could start the conversation, but it didn’t seem right. He would wait for George, even if he could scarcely feel his fingers anymore.

“I’m not sure I want to go back to school,” George said quietly, his voice almost drowned out as the wind carried it away.

“Yeah?” Jack said, feeling like he had to say something, even though he really had little to add. It wasn’t his place to tell George what he should do, or how he should feel.

“It was…well I’m sure Alex told you what I was like.”

“Only a little,” Jack admitted, “He only told me you collapsed in class and got sent home. He said you hadn’t been sleeping or eating well too.”

“I mean I just…I was trying but…I dunno.”

“You don’t need to tell me what happened, you don’t need to explain it to me.”

“Thank you.”

“I just want to know that you’re okay now.”

“Well I’m eating and sleeping now.”

“So progress?”

“Yeah, progress,” George said with a little laugh.

“And you don’t know if you want to go back to school?”

“Yeah basically. I mean, I want to dance but I don’t know if this is for me anymore,” George took a deep breath, like it cost him a great effort to speak those words, “It hasn’t been right all year, maybe even longer than that. Maybe I could be good enough if I tried really hard, if I killed myself to make it. But I can’t do that anymore. My heart hasn’t been in it for months. And they’re all right, without that, without the love, I’m not good enough.

“I can’t make it my everything anymore. When my life revolves around dancing it makes everything worse, and it hurts. It makes me a terrible son, and a bad friend, and a bad…I don’t treat you right either. But…but I don’t know who I am without it.”

Jack heard the tears before he saw them. George slumped forward and let Jack catch him in his arms, grabbing onto the front of Jack’s coat, clutching at him like a lifeline. He couldn’t imagine what it took to admit that the work of a lifetime wasn’t enough, and all the years of blood, sweat and tears were for nothing. If this was the price of having a dream, then Jack was glad he didn’t have one.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into the soft hair on top of George’s head, “I know.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he could faintly hear George say, his voice thick with tears.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“But I…” Jack felt George move and let go of him so he could sit up. There was an uncomfortable churning in his stomach when he saw his blotchy cheeks and eyes filled with tears, “I _can’t_ do anything else. This is the only thing I can do.”

Jack didn’t say so, but he had a point. With little qualifications and a very lax formal education, it wasn’t as though George could just send a last-minute application into university like most people his age would when they were having an identity crisis. He also doubted George could afford to go galivanting around South East Asia on the back of a moped to find himself like so many of his school mates had done.

“ _We’ll_ figure it out. There’s a whole world out there beyond ballet, I’ll show you,” Jack said, and he hoped George could hear the promise in his voice. Or feel it when he pressed a hand to his wet cheek.

“Jack I…without ballet, I mean, do you-…”

“If you’re about to ask me if I’ll still like you if you’re not a dancer then stop right there. I know it may not feel like it, but there’s a hell of a lot more to you than dancing.”

George pulled a face, like he disagreed but didn’t want to say so out loud because he knew Jack would argue.

“I love you George,” he said suddenly, catching them both by surprise. He knew that was the nature of his feelings, but he didn’t know he had it in him to admit it.

“I love you whether you’re a dancer or not. Even if you have nothing figured out I love you. And if it takes you months or years to work out where you’re going, I’ll love you then. A-and I’ll be here the whole time, if you want my help or not. If you need me, I’m on your side.”

“Jack.”

“Sorry, was that too much?”

George shook his head, fresh tears falling down his cheeks.

“No.”

As much as it hurt to hold back, Jack waited until George went to lean in before he kissed him. He pressed forward with urgency until George as kissing him with such fervour that Jack found himself lying on his back, sand slipping down the back of his jumper and covering his hair.

“I wish I was making things easier for us. I wish I was simpler,” George whispered, his swollen lips brushing against Jack’s own.

“I don’t need easy, or simple.”

“Good.”

“But I do think we should stop making out before someone spots us and we get charged with public indecency.”

“Oh yeah, good point,” George said with a slightly embarrassed laugh. He sat up, dusting himself off before he unnecessarily held out a hand to help Jack upright again. Jack took it anyway and kept holding on, their entwined hands lying between them on the cold sand.

“Before you said you wanted to be an astronaut,” Jack said suddenly.

“What?”

“When we went for drinks, after your concert. You told me an astronaut was the only thing you could think of that was cooler than a dancer.”

George laughed, a proper full-bodied laugh. It made Jack smile to hear it, even if he was laughing at himself.

“I think it might be a bit late for that.”

“Who knows? Maybe you have a brilliant scientific mind?” Jack said leaning over to poke George’s forehead just in the hopes that it would make him laugh; which it did. He let his hand rest on George’s jaw, cupping his cheek. He used his thumb to brush off the stray tears and sand from his flushed skin.

“Thank you Jack.”

They left the beach when the cold became hard to ignore and the sky was darkening. Jack had classes the next day but when he mentioned it George gave him a look with wide eyes and his mother insisted that it was much too late for him to drive home. It didn’t take much for Jack to agree to stay another night. He was pleasantly surprised by the eagerness with which George’s family asked him to stay. Maybe they had the same read of the situation that he did. If it was going to help George, then they didn’t need a better reason than that.

He ended up staying the following night as well and the next. He stayed so long everything about the cosy house and the country air started to feel a little too comfortable and he didn’t mind having to call in sick to work a couple of mornings. He coaxed George out of bed in the early morning so they could take the dog on a walk through the fields surrounding his village. And they took his nephew to the beach when he got home from school, chasing him up and down the sand dunes until Jack was out of breath and George had to shout at him to keep up. He sat with the whole of his family and watched reality TV in the evenings and cooked breakfast with George’s mother on the morning George couldn’t be persuaded to get out of bed.

“We’ve decided he’s going to stick it out until the end of the year,” his mum told him one morning as Jack watched over the sausages sizzling in the frying pan, “We’ve already paid the fees and George agrees he’d probably regret it if he never went back.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Jack said. As much as George was in pain. He didn’t think stopping so completely and suddenly would do him much good either. This was something he had to say goodbye to, properly, and let himself grieve.

“Will you keep an eye on him for us?” his mother asked as she placed a slice of toast on each of the seven plates she had laid out in front of her, “I know he has friends in the school. And Alex will always look out for him. But they’re so busy I think sometimes…well it’s good to have someone on the outside looking in.”

Jack knew what she meant.

“I will, of course I will.”

“Thank you.”

He stayed until Sunday when George packed his suitcases and Jack drove him back to London. They didn’t speak much on the drive into the city, just the sound of the radio filling the comfortable silence between them. Jack could tell George was nervous but somehow he knew he’d be okay. Just the fact that he was able to get into the car meant Jack knew he was strong enough for this.

When Jack parked up in front of the boarding house and killed the engine they sat for a minute before Jack turned to George.

“Call me yeah? Just to chat or if you need me to come over, I’ll be there.”

“But you’ve-…”

“I mean it. I’ll be there, or you can come to mine, anytime you like.”

“Thank you Jack.”

“It’s what…well, it’s what boyfriends are for right.”

He saw a moment of surprise cross George’s face before a shining glint appeared in his eye and he smiled, dazzlingly bright.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the little time it took to get this out - we're in the home stretch now.

George sighed for what had to be the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Jack stopped typing but didn’t look up, to see if George would finally say something. But his bedroom remained silent. So he resumed typing, squinting at his bright laptop screen trying to remember what point he’d been trying to make. He’d no sooner regained his train of thought when there was another deep sigh from behind him.

“Okay, that’s it.”

Jack spun round in his desk chair, facing his boyfriend who was lying on his stomach on his bed, staring at his own laptop. George looked surprised by his sudden outburst, but not enough to hide the sheepish and slightly guilty look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching behind him to close his laptop, his pitiful essay all but forgotten.

George lowered his chin to the mattress like he was trying to shrink himself behind his laptop, his eyes being the only part of his face visible to Jack. When George had asked to come over, Jack had assumed he’d either had a problem or had wanted to have sex. Or both. And he wouldn’t have minded either way. It was usually his job to coax George into talking about how he was doing, but he’d been getting better, he had to give him credit for that. Adjusting to being back at school and not knowing what his future held was taking some getting used to. But George seemed more at ease than he had been and according to Alex – whom Jack had taken to texting weekly, about George, and sometimes just about other things – he was eating and sleeping and training properly too. So Jack took it all as a win. Especially because now he got to refer to George as his boyfriend and didn’t have to worry if he was overstepping if he went in for a kiss or invited him to stay the night.

So, he hadn’t really expected George to ask to come over and simply chose to lie on his bed whilst Jack worked on an essay he’d mentioned on the phone.

“I won’t get in your way. I just…I just want to come over,” George had said.

“Really, I need a good excuse not to do it,” Jack said, angling for an invite to something more.

“No you ought to do it, you missed enough university for me.”

Therefore, he wasn’t exactly surprised that there was clearly something George wanted to share or wanted to talk about. Only Jack was obviously going to have to guess what it was rather than be told.

“What is it?” Jack said, standing up so he could sit on the bed beside George. He had been hoping to look at whatever he was doing on his laptop, but George shut the lid quickly before he could see, “Come on. Don’t be a drama queen, there’s something.”

He patted George’s head in what he hoped came across as affectionate, but felt a little patronising, like he was stroking a dog. There were some avenues of being in a relationship he was still trying to figure out, clearly.

“I wanted to ask you something,” George finally said, his voice muffled where he had his mouth pressed into the duvet.

“Yeah?”

“Can you…” George stopped himself with a sigh, rolling onto his back so he could look at Jack properly, “Could I ask you to tutor me?”

“Tutor you? In what?” it hadn’t exactly been what Jack was expecting. He had possibly thought George wanted to talk about their relationship or tell him about something that had happened at school. He’d even briefly considered the idea that George had decided he did want to dance after all, and Jack would have to accept that as he watched George got torn apart again. And he would have done so. Because he loved George and there was no stopping him when he got his mind set on something.

“Well, I was looking taking some proper A Levels, my GCSE grades weren’t too bad a-and I think I ought to have some proper qualifications. But it’s been a long time since I’ve done proper school and you’re so smart, and I thought…maybe then I can decide what I want to do after, maybe get a job or go to university…maybe,” his voice trailed off towards the end and his cheeks were flushed red, like it was somehow embarrassing for George to voice ambitions about higher education. It was almost bizarre for Jack, who lived in a world where university was expected, if not required. And it was definitely bizarre coming from someone who had been so unafraid about voicing his ambitions before. But George was going through some significant adjustments and in the midst of all the uncertainty and lack of control, Jack could sense he was going through a confidence crisis.

“I think that’s a great idea!” Jack said, smiling sincerely.

“You do?”

“Yeah, totally. I mean you’re right; your options are somewhat limited without doing A Levels,” Jack said, “Did you know what you wanted to take?”

“That’s what I was looking at,” George said, rolling onto his front again so he could open his laptop, “There’s a college that does intensive courses so I can try do it in one year instead of two. And I won’t have to pay anything either because I’ll only be 19 when I start. I thought maybe English because I was okay at that before and I feel like it’s sort of important…”

Jack settled down next to George and looked as he scrolled through the website, pointing out his different options and telling Jack what he thought of each. He wasn’t at all surprised when George brought up a word document where he’d been compiling pros and cons lists for each subject. After about ten minutes of discussion and research Jack had turned George’s face towards him and leaned over to kiss him.

“What was that for?” George asked, though not looking at all bothered and lingering close to Jack like he might lean in for another.

“I’m just really proud of you.”

“I still have stuff to figure out, like where I’m going to live and how I’ll pay for rent and there’s still the rest of the year to finish up and I haven’t told the teachers yet that I’m not going to pursue a professional contract. And at school only Alex knows-“

Jack cut him off with another kiss.

“We have plenty of time for all that. For now…” he pressed his lips to George’s sharp jawline, letting his mouth linger there and enjoying the way George automatically tilted his head back for him, “For now we can just do this.”

George carefully placed his laptop on the carpet before he pulled Jack fully on top of him.

“That’s a good plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also for non-british people, GCSEs are the qualifications you take when you're 16 in the UK (these are compulsory, unless you're lando norris for some reason) and A Levels you take when you're 18 and your results from these get you into university or go on your CVs (aka resumes) - these are semi-compulsory but essential if you want to do higher education <3


	17. Chapter 17

The plush foyer of the Opera House was filled with chatter and laughter, as Jack found himself breathing in to avoid brushing up against the expensive suits and cocktail dresses of the people around him. He was a little later than he wanted to be, having spent far too long agonising over what he should wear before eventually running downstairs and asking his mum to dress him. By the time his taxi had pulled up in front of the grand building (he hadn’t wanted to risk further delays on public transport) he only had around five minutes before he had to be seated next to George’s parents.

It was his parents that he was trying to find as he wandered through the foyer and up a set of wide stairs covered in a red velvet runner. He had only been in the Opera House once when George had taken him up to the terrace café and that had been during the day when tourists and tour guides had been milling around. Now the sun had set and the chandeliers were sparkling above him, it had transformed into something else entirely. In that moment he felt like he better understood the glamour and excitement that attracted people to ballet. Through a pair of windows in a heavy-looking door, Jack could see the grand glass hall from his last visit being set up for the drinks reception that would follow the Royal Ballet School’s end of year gala.

Once he reached the top of the flight of stairs, he saw George’s Mum and Dad stood by the doorway to the auditorium, looking around. He gave them a little wave as he headed over.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as George’s Dad, Steve, shook his hand and his mum, Allison, kissed him on the cheek.

“It’s fine, still plenty of time to take our seats,” Allison said though she looked keen for the three of them to get a move on. There was a nervous tightness to her face, one that echoed the feelings that were stirring in the pit of Jack’s stomach. He knew both of them were imagining how George must be feeling, about to step on stage for what could well be the last time in his life. It was certainly his last time at the Royal Opera House as a member of the Royal Ballet School. After tonight his future was no longer a well thought out schedule of concrete plans and long-held dreams. It was vast and empty and no doubt terrifying.

Jack couldn’t help but watch all the people around him as they sat down. He wondered if they were family members anxiously waiting on the fates of their loved one’s futures or doners or enthusiasts along for the ride, keen to catch a glimpse of the next superstar.

Even for a complete novice, Jack had to appreciate the performances as they began. The first half had younger students performing scenes he didn’t know from what were obviously well-known ballets, the half after the interval being reserved for the final year students. During the fifteen minute interval the three of them didn’t get up from the seats to get a drink or an ice cream. They didn’t even move to go to the bathroom. George’s parents had their heads bent together, speaking in hushed voices but Jack wasn’t listening. At some point he took his phone out and re-read the last few texts he’d sent to George.

_how are u feeling?_

_Nervous but also not. A bit sad I guess_

_i'll meet u afterwards? i think ur parents want to take us for dinner_

_Yeah sure. I need to go now, everyone’s heading down to the Opera House._

_good luck xxx_

Since then, he hadn’t heard from George, who was no doubt caught up in tech rehearsals and the nervous excitement of it being everyone’s last performance for the school. He wondered how many people knew that this could be George’s last performance ever. Jack was so caught up in his thoughts he almost jumped when the lights suddenly dimmed and he realised that everyone around him had returned to their seats and the red velvet curtain was rising.

The second half began and he watched as exceptionally talented young men and women took to the stage to perform their solos. Some danced grand, classical pieces whilst others opted for more modern, cotemporary routines. He knew from reading the programme that George was due to perform last but he hadn’t been able to keep count of how many would go before him. He wondered if the running order was a deliberate choice, a last gift from the teachers to George, their one-time superstar.

As a lithe boy, who had been dancing a piece in which Jack thought he was supposed to be Prince Charming, exited the stage with a swagger, he heard the announcer call George’s name and inform the audience that he would be dancing an original routine. He felt Allison’s hand reach blindly for his so he grabbed it tight and as he looked down he saw that Steve was holding her other, leaving the three of them looking like they were holding some silent vigil. Jack couldn’t explain the mess of nerves that was swirling in the pit of his stomach, but he knew all of them were feeling a mix of anticipation and pride and nerves.

George looked so small from where they were sat, a thin figure dressed in green that walked onto the stage with confidence. He stood still for a moment in the centre of the stage, a low spotlight shining down on him, then the music started and Jack recognised it instantly. The low drumming beat took him back to the afternoon in the school dance studio, George tearing his heart out in front of him as he danced with an anguish he’d never seen before.

It was the same routine Jack was watching now. But it couldn’t have looked more different. Where there had been pain and hurt before, now there was a fierce determination and power. George moved with strength, like fire was coursing through his limbs, propelling him through the dance, across the stage and leaping into the air. George’s mum was holding onto Jack’s hand so tight he was sure he was losing feeling, but Jack wasn’t sure he was breathing anyway. Seeing George dance again inspired the same feeling in him that it had before. Whereas last time he knew George was cutting himself open and stripping himself down to the bare bones, the vulnerability he was showing now told Jack he had been to the edge and he was clawing himself back again, broken fingernails clinging to crumbling rock.

Jack almost found himself leaping to his feet when George finished, simple applause not feeling like enough. He wanted to scream “ _I’m so proud of you!”_ and stomp his feet, but he didn’t seem to be in appropriate company. Next to him, Allison and Steve had tears in their eyes, clapping their hands enthusiastically.

“He was brilliant,” Allison said breathlessly, Jack just able to hear her voice.

“He was,” he agreed.

After the final bows, the three of them hurried outside to the stage door where George had told them to meet. He’d told Jack he’d rather skip out on the drinks reception at the Opera House, so he didn’t have to hear all his classmates talking about the companies he had and hadn’t gotten into whilst his name hadn’t been part of any discussions. Jack thought it was a smart move.

They only had to wait a few minutes in the warm night air until George came barrelling out the stage door, having ditched his green costume for a plain red jumper and black trousers. He looked around for a second before he was enveloped in a bear hug from his mother. Even from a few steps away Jack could hear her telling him how proud she was and how amazingly he’d danced. Jack wondered briefly if it would be easier for George to hear that he hadn’t danced well at all, that he really wasn’t good enough. Jack was no expert but he knew George was more than good enough. The problem was what it cost him to be that good. George caught his eye as his father stepped away from giving him his own hug.

“How was it?” George asked quietly as Jack stepped forward.

“You’re amazing,” Jack whispered in his ear before brushing his lips against his warm cheek, “Let’s go get dinner.”

***

After George’s parents had been filled with dinner and a couple of glasses of wine and put into a taxi to their hotel, Jack turned to George.

“I suppose you’ll want to get back to the boarding house,” he said, taking Jack’s hand as he lead them in the direction of the nearest tube station. Over the course of dinner they’d mostly steered clear of talking about dance, instead the conversation had been filled with George’s parents’ amazement at how impressive the food was and Jack rambling about his own family. He wasn’t sure if a distraction was what George really needed, but the three of them seemed to have wordlessly agreed on it.

“Not really,” George said with a shrug, “The rest of the guys are having a party. Celebrating, you know.”

“Oh.”

“Alex got a contract with English National,” George added, genuine pride in his voice.

“That’s great.”

“Yeah,” George said, a hint of bitterness and disappointment slipping in.

“Do you regret it?” Jack couldn’t help but ask as he stepped behind George to avoid a passing pedestrian, not letting go of his hand.

George didn’t answer for a few seconds.

“No I-…when I was on that stage, dancing, I remembered why I loved it so much. It felt like it did when I was a kid, it was fun and freeing and the best feeling in the entire world. But I felt like the universe was just giving me one last chance to feel that. It hasn’t felt that good in months, years really,” he sighed, squeezing Jack’s hand tighter, “I’m gutted that I don’t have a contract, that I’m not going to dance professionally. It hurts knowing that’s what all my friends are doing. But that doesn’t mean I’m not doing the right thing.”

“I’m really proud of you, you know?”

George smiled at him.

“I know.”


	18. Epilogue

_2 years later_

Jack kept the engine running as he waited by the side of the road just so he could keep the air conditioning on. June had been hit by an unseasonable heat wave and the sun was bearing down on Jack through the glass of his front windscreen. It didn’t help that George was late and he’d been sat here for twenty minutes longer than he’d planned. He looked at the students who were milling around the front building, all artsy types clutching their sketchbooks and portfolios, wearing outfits that they were allowed to call fashionable because they were vintage and thrifted. Part of him couldn’t imagine sensible and straight-laced George fitting in. But he also knew these were the kinds of people he’d grown up with, creatives with their heads in the clouds, not the maths student Jack had studied with when he was still at university.

Eventually George appeared, walking with a short guy and girl, both of whom were animatedly chatting with him. Or possibly just at him. He saw George spot his car and a grin broke out on his face, an expression that made it look like the sun came out. He watched as George said his goodbyes and hurried over to his car, sliding in and immediately leaning over.

“Someone’s excited to see me,” Jack smiled when George finally pulled away.

“You just look great in this suit,” George said, running his hands down the lapels, “Is it new?”

“Maybe.”

“They pay you too much.”

Jack snorted.

“You don’t complain when I take you on dates.”

George just laughed as he threw his laptop bag and books into the backseat, where Jack knew they would stay for the rest of the weekend. It wasn’t that George didn’t work hard; he’d spent way too much of his first year locked away in the library in Jack’s opinion. Jack was just very good at distracting him.

“And you’re late!” Jack laughed as he merged into the rush hour traffic, “It’s your best friend that we’re going to see remember?”

“Sorry, sorry! I just stayed behind for five minutes. I have a presentation due next week, so we just wanted to arrange a time to meet up.”

“It’s fine, we’ll still make it. As long as you don’t take too long in the shower this time.”

“Ha ha.”

An hour later, Jack was lying on the bed in their flat, already dressed for the show, listening to the sounds of the running water. The setting sun was piercing through the sheer curtains that were blowing in front of the French doors making the room glow orange and yellow. The bedroom was small, a little like the rest of the flat, but Jack thought it was perfect. He could have stayed at home, saved more money and bought something fancier, something bigger in some place nicer. But when George decided to stay in London to go to university, Jack wanted the two of them to be together someplace other than his bedroom in his parents’ house. So, he’d finally looked inside the trust fund he’d had since he was twenty-one and taken out as much as he needed to put down a deposit on a one-bedroom flat in a quiet, leafy part of the city. He wanted it to be their haven, a little world for just the two of them.

He’d asked George to move in with him over dinner. They were supposed to be celebrating his successful graduation from university and George’s acceptance, so it felt like the right time.

“You okay?”

Jack looked up to see George standing in the bathroom doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping down his face. The sun was hitting his body, making the droplets of water shine and glisten. Despite not dancing for a few year’s now, George somehow managed to make sure that his body looked perfect.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

George crawled onto the foot of the bed, making the white covers sink beneath his weight. Jack pressed his foot to his shoulder, trying to keep him at bay.

“About what?” George smiled, grabbing Jack’s ankle.

“Just about us.”

“Oh really?” George raised an eyebrow as he shuffled closer.

“Don’t! You’ll get me all wet,” Jack laughed, kicking out at George.

“What a shame,” George chuckled, reaching for Jack.

“We have to leave in twenty minutes!” Jack said as he tried to roll out of the way.

“Plenty of time.”

“George,” Jack said sternly, reaching over to the bedside table so he could pick up their two tickets to the English National Ballet’s production of _Les Sylphides_ and wave them in front of George, “It’s Alex’s big night!”

George sat back on his heels, holding up the fluffy towel where it was starting to slip.

“You’re right.”

Jack sat up too, crossing his legs in front of him.

“You’re feeling okay about this right?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been a few seconds ago. He was aware that this would be the first time George was going to step inside of a theatre since he’d left the Royal Ballet School. Alex had even called him before he extended the invitation to ask Jack if he thought George would even want to go, knowing that he would say yes to support his best friend. Jack honestly didn’t know. But he knew ultimately, only George knew his own feelings.

“About the ballet?” George asked.

“Yeah.”

“I want to go. I’m glad Alex has got his first soloist role.”

“But you’re feeling okay?” Jack asked again, feeling like George had dodged the question a little.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” George nodded, smiling unconvincingly, “I’ll never feel totally okay about. But I want to go.”

Maybe it was partly a lie. But Jack knew George well enough now to look in his eyes and see that he would be okay. He wouldn’t be perfect, _they_ wouldn’t be perfect. But it would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've made it to the end of the road!!!
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story and left a kudos or a lovely comment.
> 
> and chesca, i hope you don't mind that your birthday present took several months to be completed.
> 
> <3


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